


Windswept

by Curly_Kay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Angst, Banter, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Humor, No age gap, Roommates, Sirius Goes Forward in Time, Slow Burn, Time Travel, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 122,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25935226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curly_Kay/pseuds/Curly_Kay
Summary: Hermione hesitated, searching for the words as her throat went dry. “You asked how I knew your name...I know who you are because I’ve seen your picture in the Potter’s cottage thousands of times. There was an explosion, you disappeared from your flat—this flat.”She took a shaky breath. “You’ve been gone nearly twenty years, Sirius.”-------------------------------When Hermione Granger couldn’t find anything to fit her meager Ministry budget, she begrudgingly accepted the keys to Remus and Sirius’ old flat, never expecting to find her future in a man who disappeared twenty years before.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Hermione Granger
Comments: 2271
Kudos: 1808
Collections: Best of Sirimione





	1. Orenda Way

**Author's Note:**

> The biggest thank you to my amazing alpha/beta team who have helped with Windswept. PotionChemist, BreathofThePhoenix, LumosLyra, and LauraArmada, I’m so grateful to have all of you! ❤️

“What do you think about this one, Hermione?” Harry asked, sliding the newspaper across the table.

Hermione thumbed through the pages, skimming the circled listing. “Abraxan Road…isn’t that where the dragon egg smuggler was found? Right next to the fairy dust dealer?”

“Maybe?” He grimaced with a small shrug. “Ginny found our flat with her mum so I never paid attention to location.”

Popping a grape into her mouth, Hermione asked, “Speaking of Ginny, where is your fiancée this morning?”

“She had a game last night against the Falmouth Falcons and it ran late; it took hours for Thompson to catch the snitch in the rain. She’s at home having a lie in.” He nudged the paper gently, drawing her attention back to it. “Back to the listing, did you see they have new appliances in the kitchen?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, disappointment trickling through her. “It’s owned by the same company as the one on Gilly Lane, and that flat was a real—”

“Shite-hole,” Harry supplied with a chuckle as he dropped a handful of berries into his porridge.

Hermione’s face contorted into disgust. “That’s being generous. I’m still convinced that there was a pixie infestation in the walls. The extermination fees alone would offset the cheap rent.”

With a heavy groan, she folded the newspaper and set it on the table in defeat.

“At this rate, I’ll never find my own place unless I severely lower my standards.” She took a sip of pumpkin juice. “Perhaps I’ll have to find a flatmate.”

“What’s this I hear about lowering standards?” Remus Lupin strolled into the dining room and selected a red apple from the fruit basket, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “I thought we raised you better than that, Hermione,” he teased, his teeth cutting through the flesh of the apple with a satisfying crunch.

“I am officially out of options, Remus,” she complained. “Don’t judge me in my fallen state.”

“Good luck with that.” Harry shoveled another spoonful of porridge into his mouth, quickly swallowing before he spoke. “You wouldn’t have to look for a flat last minute if you hadn’t been forced to take that lease in the first place. I’ll never understand what you saw in that wanker.”

Jerking her head in Remus’ direction, Hermione’s eyes widened and then narrowed, silently urging Harry to be quiet.

Remus eyed her curiously before taking another bite of his apple. “Out of options for what, Hermione?”

Her shoulders slumped forward. “I’ve been looking for nearly a _month_ and I still can’t find any decent flats within my Ministry budget—”

“—and you won’t take help,” Harry grumbled under his breath before refilling his cup.

“And I’m not going to live off charity,” she corrected with a determined wave of her finger. “The flats in the local post have all been out of my price range or completely uninhabitable. I might be living under a bridge with a pair of trolls come next week.”

“How culturally insensitive of you to make that assertion,” Remus chided, a crooked grin sweeping across his lips. “I’ll have you know, trolls haven’t lived under bridges in centuries. If you’re absolutely determined to have trolls for flatmates, I must first ask, how do you feel about swamps?”

With a loud huff, Hermione pushed her plate away and rested her forehead on the table. 

“What’s with her?” James Potter asked, sounding altogether too amused for Hermione’s liking as he entered the dining room and claimed the empty seat next to Harry. “Hermione looks far too distressed for this early in the morning. She should have the courtesy to wait until at least ten to have a breakdown like the rest of polite society.”

“She’s mentally debating the merits of swamp-life,” Remus informed him with a grave look, his head shaking in faux pity. “It’s a challenging time for her and she needs our emotional support.”

James paused, eyes drifting towards the ceiling in thought. “Ample real estate available, low cost of maintenance, water-front view.” He ticked each comment on his fingers before cocking his head and turning to Hermione. “Though there is always the complication of trolls. Has Remus warned you about the trolls?”

“I did mention the trolls; they appear to be a selling point for her,” Remus chuckled softly with a raise of his brows.

The hard wood of the table pressed against her skin as she lifted her head just enough to glare at Remus while he poured himself a cup of coffee. 

“Why do I even come to these Sunday brunches anymore?” 

“Because you love us,” Harry sang, bumping his shoulder against hers playfully. “Can’t break our brunch streak. Mum would be devastated; she already thinks we’re growing up too quickly.”

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Your mum was married with a baby at our age. I think we’re grown, or did she miss your engagement last summer?”

“I still don’t see why she would rather live in a troll swamp when you have the old flat lying around unused.” James smeared a generous serving of raspberry jam on his toast before gesturing towards them with the spreading knife.

“The old flat?” Harry’s brow furrowed, and he looked to Remus for an explanation. “What old flat?”

Lifting her head up, Hermione watched the interaction with curiosity, her interest piqued.

“Oh, the old flat!” Remus’ features softened with apparent nostalgia. “I haven’t been there in years. I suppose it would be the perfect solution. The fireplace is still connected to the Floo Network; she could use it to commute to the Ministry.”

“Though she would be giving up the prospect of infiltrating troll society and usurping their leader. She could command an army by December if she plays her alliances well.” James tilted his head as he mused, “The opportunity cost would be tremendous.”

Scoffing, Remus tossed James a look of incredulity. “Surely, you’re joking. Trolls are bumbling idiots with little aptitude, you’d be better off infiltrating giants who at least have their own language and basic intellect. Trolls bring hardly anything to the table, their only ‘skills’ are their size and ability to smash.”

“Smashing is useful,” James muttered, his brows disappearing behind his fringe.

Remus placed the apple core on his serviette and picked up a fresh muffin from the serving platter before continuing, “Trolls have no element of surprise—they are loud and easily visible from a distance. The coordination it would take, even with a proper military strategy, to command an army would be excessive for the return on investment. Plus, imagine having to maintain a health and healing station for creatures of that size."

Retracting in his seat, James stared at Remus in confusion. “You don’t think there would be massive benefits to commanding an army of trolls? It could be phase one of a strategic overtaking of the magical world. I mean, the intimidation power alone would be—"

“What was that about a flat?” Hermione interjected, matching the intensity of their slightly raised voices. She knew that if she didn’t direct them back to the original topic they would be discussing troll militaries for the next hour, and as fascinating as she might have found the debate, she was in desperate need of a flat.

James and Remus turned to her, wide-eyed as if they had forgotten she was in the room.

Remus blinked. “Yes. The flat.” He and James shared a glance. The pair could have an entire conversation in the span of a look.

After a beat, James explained, “When we were your age, we had a flat in Muggle London.”

“Muggle London? How have I never heard of this flat?” Harry asked, eyeing his father with suspicion.

The chair scraped across the floor as James stood up. He crossed the dining room to the photograph of a tall man with dark hair and a brilliant smile that had hung in the kitchen for as long as Hermione could remember.

“We lived there with Sirius,” James’ voice was low and introspective as he lifted the frame and inspected the photograph. “It was all of us at first, until I moved in with Lily and we had Harry. Remus and Sirius lived there together until—”

“—until the explosion,” Remus finished with a heavy sigh, making his way over to James and resting a hand on his shoulder. She could just make out the comforting squeeze of Remus’ fingers, another small gesture between the two friends.

Hermione frowned, making the connection. “ _The_ explosion with Sirius Black was at your Muggle flat? You’ve retold that story every year since we were children and never once mentioned the flat.”

“Remus was out that night collecting supplies to make the next batch of Wolfsbane and I was at home with Lily and Harry. We aren’t sure of the details but we know that Sirius was alone at the flat—”

“Having a drink, or five.” Fond smile lines creased into Remus’ cheeks. “He never did listen to me when I told him to slow down. He’d had a row with his brother the night before and was self-medicating with copious amounts of Ogden’s.”

James nodded, adding, “He was at the flat and—according to the neighbors who were later Obliviated—around midnight there was a loud crack and flash of light. The entire living room was destroyed, and we found no trace of Sirius anywhere. There was an entire Ministry investigation but they didn’t find any evidence of tampering. The official report attributed the explosion to a random burst of magical energy.”

“We repaired the living room and searched for years; it was nothing but dead ends,” Remus finished quietly.

A beat of silence overtook the room.

Lily walked around the corner of the dining room, holding a large pot. “I have more porridge if anyone’s still hungry.” Lily’s wide smile fell as she took in the somber faces.

“What did I miss?” she asked, brows furrowed in concern as her eyes drifted to James who was still holding the photograph in his hands. “Oh love, are you telling them about Sirius?”

“I am. It’s been twenty years but it still feels like yesterday. I can’t believe he’s gone.” James hung the picture back on the wall, straightening the frame carefully with a twist of his fingers. “He’s still our brother.”

Remus nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. “He is. I say we have a glass of his favourite tonight and pass the flat on to the next generation. I don’t think Sirius would be happy we let his flat turn into a dusty memorial to him. He always did hate that sort of thing.”

“Oh!” Lily exclaimed as she set down the pot and removed the lid. “You’re finally doing something with the ‘fuck you flat’? I’ve been saying you should rent it out for years.”

Harry choked on his drink, hitting his chest with his fist as he coughed out the words, “ _The what flat_?”

Lily covered her mouth with her hand, looking at Harry. “I’m sorry dear, I didn’t mean to—I mean, it’s just that’s what Sirius called it.” She turned to Remus in horror. “I’m glad Teddy is with Tonks this morning. That boy is related to two Marauders and I absolutely _refuse_ to be the one responsible for teaching him that word.”

“And _why_ is that the name of the flat?” Hermione asked, teeth digging into her lower lip, wondering if she would even want to live there after hearing the namesake.

“Nothing sinister,” Remus assured her. “It was aptly named. Sirius used what he fondly called his ‘fuck you money’ from his family trust. He liked to make purchases with his Galleons for the sole purpose of making his mother angry. It was a pastime of his.”

“WWWD!” Remus and James declared in unison before bursting into laughter.

Glancing around the room, Hermione wondered if she was the only one missing out on the joke as James and Remus doubled over in their moment of apparent insanity. James’ hand clutched Remus’s shoulder as their bodies shook with laughter. She was relieved to find that Harry looked equally confused when she caught his eye.

“What Would Walburga Do. When faced with any major life choice, Sirius would ask himself that question. Once he decided what his hag of a mother would do in that situation, he did the exact opposite,” James snickered, his eyes glazing over from the memory.

“Walburga was his wench of a mother,” Remus offered with a chuckle. “I’m sure you’ve seen her wailing portrait around Grimmauld Place once or twice over the years.”

“Oh my god, that’s his _mother_?” Hermione balked in horror. “I thought she was the lovechild of a stray banshee who bred with a boggart.”

The older men doubled down in laughter. “Oh, Sirius would’ve loved you.”

Their laughter faded until only the sound of Lily’s cutlery filled the room as she sliced up a plate of fruit.

“Are you sure you’re ready to give it up now?” Hermione’s brow knitted, unconvinced. “The flat is so significant to you. If I’m living there, I might change it. Are you ready for that?”

“You should alter it, make it something new. It’s taken twenty years to come to terms with losing Sirius but I think we are ready. It felt like as long as we held on to the flat, there was a possibility that he might come back. Rather ridiculous to say it out loud...” James’ voice trailed off with a distinct sadness that made Hermione’s heart hurt for their loss even more.

“It doesn’t sound ridiculous,” Hermione insisted. “If it were Harry or Ron, I would have done the same. I can’t tarnish those memories for you.”

The corners of Remus’ mouth lifted in a small smile as he leveled his gaze on Hermione. “It hasn’t been used in nearly twenty years, Hermione. I believe we are well past our time of mourning. You should breathe some life back into the old place; I am willing to bet it could do with a fresh coat of paint, and I’m sure Sirius would have agreed with us. It’s been sitting empty far too long.”

“I really appreciate the sentiment but I can’t do that, not when it meant so much to you. I can find another flat.”

“Where, Hermione? You’re about to be homeless living with swamp trolls,” Harry interjected.

“If that’s the reason that you’re offering, I won’t take charity, Remus—” Hermione protested, but Remus lifted a hand to cut her off.

“It’s not charity, Sirius owned the flat—something about how satisfying it was to purchase Muggle real estate with his family’s fortune—and after he was declared dead, James and I inherited his estate. It’s free of charge, the family discount.”

Hermione hesitated. “Though I appreciate the sentiment, I have to pay rent. I won’t just live there for free. That’s not fair to you. I’m making a decent salary at the Ministry and I will pay you monthly. You can save up the money for Teddy.”

“He should get a new broom!” Harry grinned broadly. “I’ve been teaching him to fly.”

“Harry James,” Lily started, disapproval laced in her tone.

“He’s going to be a Seeker.” Harry shrugged, dropping his spoon into his empty bowl. “Told me himself.”

“He’s three.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Remus’ mouth. “Fine, you can pay rent. If you absolutely insist.”

“—and buy Teddy a broom,” Harry added quickly.

“I absolutely insist.”

“Five Galleons a month,” Remus negotiated, spearing a piece of sausage with his fork.

Hermione gave him a look of incredulity before quickly snapping her mouth closed. “That hardly qualifies as a payment for rent. That’s the price of coffee for a month.”

“Won’t find a good broom for five Galleons,” Harry muttered into his cup before he took another sip.

“Ten Galleons?” James’ suggested casually, grinning at Remus. “But no more than fifteen or it will seriously hinder the military budget for feather plumes, and you _must_ have feather plumes in a proper military uniform.”

Remus hummed thoughtfully in faux contemplation. “I absolutely agree, Prongs. I will accept no more than fifteen Galleons as your counter-offer.”

“You’re a terrible negotiator.” Hermione bit back a smile, reaching into her purse and counting out the gold coins. “I would have gone to at least twenty.”

“Looks like you’ve got a new tenant, Moony.”

* * *

Hermione exhaled deeply, stepping back to admire her work. Her hair was tied up into a messy bun and her clothes were covered in splatters of paint. She brushed away a loose curl with the palm of her hand, completely exhausted.

It had taken three coats of paint and an entire Saturday, but Hermione finally painted the living room of her flat. She had been pleasantly surprised to find the old flat in excellent shape—though a bit dusty. It came fully furnished with the bachelors’ old furniture from two decades prior, mostly usable with the exception of a few pieces that only needed a bit of repair from years of disuse.

Remus was insistent that Hermione make any changes to make it feel like her own. He and Tonks stopped by with the buckets of paint and helped her complete the first bedroom, though they did tease her for insisting on doing it the Muggle way. There was just something so satisfying about painting a room by hand.

In the past month, she had replaced the sagging lumpy sofa, added a dining room table, and repainted the two bedrooms. After moving the furniture from the spare bedroom into storage, she transformed the space into a library. The walls, once bare, now had framed art and pictures.

Overall, the flat was completely transformed, and Hermione was proud of the progress she had made.

It felt like home.

As she walked past the large round mirror on the wall, she paused to inspect herself. At some point she had smeared paint across her forehead. Rubbing at it unsuccessfully with a wrinkle of her nose, she gave up, knowing that it was not coming off without some serious scrubbing. With a small sigh, she decided to stop for the night; since it was nearing midnight, her feet were starting to drag and the frequency of her yawns had increased.

Stripping clothing off piece by piece, she lethargically climbed into the running shower. Humming softly under the heated water, she relished in the feeling of paint and sweat rinsing off her body. The smell of her body wash drifted through the air as she lathered it across her arms, rising with the steam to fill the small lavatory.

Just as she turned the squeaky knob to shut off the water, a loud crash rang out from down the hall. Hermione jolted in panic, pulling on her thin nightshirt and shorts in a hurry, her curls still heavy with water. Clutching her wand in her fist, she mentally recalled spells from her defence classes at Hogwarts as she stumbled out into the dark hallway.

“ _Lumos_.”

Focusing intently for any sound, she took several steps before pausing, trying to identify the origin of the crash; it appeared to have come from the spare bedroom. 

There was another clatter followed by the sound of glass shattering. 

She flinched, her heart fluttering rapidly inside of her chest as sheer panic threatened to overwhelm her.

“Oh, fucking hell!” a low voice exclaimed from behind the door.

Holding her breath, she quickly ran over the list of people who could possibly be in her flat. The wards set up would not allow anyone inside who had not already been granted access, and they were nearly impenetrable without an army (wizarding or trollish). Remus and James had fortified the place like it was a safe house in a war zone, using wards they had taken from the Black family ancestral home. 

With her wand raised in the air, she kicked open the door to the spare room, prepared to defend herself or to hex whoever was in her spare bedroom.

Tilting the light from her wand, she quickly inspected the room, eyes darting around the space. Several books were knocked off her shelf and it appeared that the intruder had tripped over her ottoman and cracked the vase her mum had gifted her as a housewarming present. Scanning the remaining area, the light caught on the body below her.

“Turn off that bloody light!” the raspy voice begged. “You were right, Moony; it was too much whisky. I think I’m simultaneously pissed and hungover. I might vomit.”

On the floor of her home library was a man with curly black hair and a five-o-clock shadow. He wore a black blazer, a plain white fitted shirt, and snug Muggle jeans. His arms were dangling over his face in an attempt to shield himself from the light.

It took her a moment to realise exactly what he had said.

“How do you know Remus?” she demanded, not lowering her wand. “Where did you hear the name ‘Moony’?”

“How do I…? I bloody well live with him! I gave him the damn name!” the man asserted, sitting up and running his hands over his face slowly. “Gods, I feel like shite.”

His entire body swayed and he kept counter-balancing with a jerk of his arms. He was clearly sloshed.

“You do look like shite,” she agreed, taking in his appearance as she sniffed the air gingerly. “And you reek of firewhisky.”

“I took some of—oh, what does it matter?” His words slurred as he flung an arm into the air. “Can you find Moony? He has this potion, it helps. I’ll be back to my charming self in no time.”

The hair on her arms raised and her mind reeled. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she held her stance, trying to steady her shaking hand. “I’m not doing anything until you tell me who you are. You have one chance to tell me before I petrify you and call the Aurors! Who are you and why are you in my flat?”

“ _Your_ flat? This is…is _my_ flat.” With the way his words blended together, it was a miracle Hermione could understand them at all. “Orenda Way. Or I am _far_ drunker than I thought.”

“But…” Her mind frantically processed his words. 

One by one, it clicked together.

He knew Remus. 

He called Remus ‘Moony’.

_I gave him the name._

_This is my flat, Orenda Way._

In the dimly lit room, she had barely recognised him from the photo in the Potter’s dining room. He had not aged a day. The realisation knocked the wind out of her and she took a reflexive step back, nearly dropping her wand in the process.

“Sirius Black?!” 

Uncovering his face, Sirius looked up at her with curious silver eyes, as if seeing her for the first time. “That’s my name, beautiful,” he mumbled, his eyes drinking her in as a grin stretched slowly over his lips. 

She was suddenly very aware of her state of undress.

“I don’t remember taking you home but Moony won’t mind once he sees those eyes of yours. I think… I think I’ll keep...” His eyes rolled to the back of his head as they fluttered shut, his body slumping backwards.

A sharp scream pierced her ears. It took a moment for her to recognise that it came from her own lips as she stared down at the unconscious man on the floor.

Sirius Black was back.


	2. The Return of Sirius Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the wonderful comments and excitement for this story after the first chapter! I appreciate every comment and kudo, and I can’t wait to share more with you!
> 
> A big thank you to my amazing Alphabet, LumosLyra and PotionChemist, and my fantastic pre-readers/baby alphas BreathofThePhoenix and LauraArmada for all of your help and encouragement!

Pacing the room, Hermione’s breath came in short pants, throat burning from the involuntary scream that had escaped her lips moments before. The blunted tips of her fingernails dug into her palm as she grasped her wand, and the walls seemed to close in on her with each gasp. 

A flurry of “ _ Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god _ ,” fell from her lips, unable to tear her eyes away from the unconscious man at her feet.

Halting mid-step, she drew a steadying breath in a paltry attempt to calm her growing anxiety.

Logic dictated that it had to be Sirius; he looked exactly like the picture in the Potter’s dining room, and if he were using Polyjuice Potion or a glamour, he would not have made it through the wards.

The  _ Black  _ family wards.

_ Sirius Black. _

Sirius Black had not died; he had been transported through time.

Her mind finally caught up and she sprung into action. First things first, she needed to sober him up.

After sprinting to the kitchen, Hermione shuffled through the vials of potions until she found a green vial filled with Sober-Up Potion. Tucking it safely into her palm, she walked back to the room, taking deep breaths to steady her nerves once more before she knelt on the floor next to the man presumed to be Sirius Black.

In the light, he was incredibly handsome; dark facial hair peppered across his strong jawline, a stark contrast to his alabaster skin. His hair was slightly overgrown with curls as wild as her own. It was impossible not to stare at him. After a moment, she gently parted his lips with her thumb, tipping the vial into his opened mouth until the liquid was gone.

Sirius sat up instantly, coughing and gasping for air. 

Leaning away from his flailing arms, her body tensed as she waited for his reaction, wand at the ready. 

Could he tell that he had been transported through time?

Pounding his chest with his fist, Sirius swallowed. “Ugh, that Sober-Up tastes like Grindylow arse.” He cleared his throat with a grimace. “That’s what I get for finishing off that bottle of Ogden’s, I suppose.”

Sirius’ silver eyes reached hers, narrowing inquisitively as if he was trying to place her.

“How do you know what Grindylow—” Hermione stopped herself, not wanting to know the answer. “Nevermind. Sirius, I—”

“I’m sure you’re quite lovely, honestly,” he began as he stood up, eyes dragging over her body, causing a flush to rise on her chest. “And I have no idea how I managed to convince a witch like you to come home with me, but I really do need to send you off before my flatmate comes back.”

“No, Sirius—”

With a quick raise of his hand, he cut her off with an apologetic look. “I admire the tenacity, really I do, but no matter how good the lay, you have to leave.” He stood up, wobbling slightly in place as he tried to steady himself. “Moony doesn’t let me keep overnight guests, part of our agreement.”

Scowling, she crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head and raising her brows in defiance. It tripled her annoyance that he was so much taller than her; the height difference made it increasingly difficult to maintain her glare.

“Really, it was wonderful—a special moment between us that I’ll never forget.” Somehow, he managed to maintain a completely serious expression. “I’ll owl you.”

The blush crept up her neck.

“We didn’t sleep together,” she practically snarled through clenched teeth. “I do have standards.”

Sirius raised his brows, undeterred by her reaction. “Pity, with that arse.”

The heat reached her cheeks.

“How oblivious can you be?” Hermione asked, gesticulating wildly into the air around her. “Does anything seem off, Sirius? Anything at all?” 

“I mean, other than the witch with a great arse who didn’t sleep with me and now refuses to leave my flat?” 

With an incredulous scoff, she gestured from the shelves of books, to her plush chair, and the end table before turning back to him, throwing her arms out expectantly.

He stilled, his body unmoving as his eyes darted around him. “What happened to my room?” he turned around feebly. “Why is it a bloody library?” Sirius’ eyes narrowed before he pointed a finger at her. “Did Remus put you up to this?”

Hermione’s hands came up to cover her face, wand dangling between her fingers, her voice muffled against her palms. “Oh. My. God. Sirius Black.”

“Why do you keep saying my name like that? On that note, must’ve been the whisky, but I don’t remember your name.”

“It’s Hermione Granger.” She watched his eyes for any reaction as she continued, “I’m best mates with Harry Potter.”

He scoffed pitifully. “Bit sad to be best mates with an infant, don’t you think, Hermione Granger? I don’t think he returns the sentiment considering his best mate is a tit. Can’t compete with his food source. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“I keep saying your name like that because I never thought I would meet you, and I’m having a hard time absorbing the fact that you’re standing in front of me. You don’t know me, but I know who you are because I’ve heard stories about you all my life.”

“All your… Wait a minute, you don’t know my bitch of a mother, do you? Because if that’s the case, then that is going to ruin this good thing we have going on.”

Hermione couldn’t stop the groan that tore from her throat, no matter how hard she tried to hold it back. Even if Sirius and his mother had a tumultuous relationship, she felt sick at the thought of telling him that Walburga had passed and was now a screeching portrait haunting the halls of Grimmauld Place.

“I’ve technically met your mother, just not how you think. I know you from the Potters.” Speaking as though she was calming a skittish animal, she continued, “Do you want to sit down?”

Sirius reflexively took a step back. “I don’t like the way you’re talking to me. Reminds me too much of Lily when she delivers bad news.” He inhaled sharply, looking panicked. “Is that why you’re here? Did something happen to them?”

“Nothing happened to them; they’re safe at home. God, I don’t know how to say this to you to make you understand.” She hesitated, searching for the words as her throat went dry. “I know who you are because I’ve seen your picture in the Potter’s cottage thousands of times. I’m best mates with Harry and he’s not an infant, hasn’t been for a long time. There was an explosion. You disappeared from your flat— _ this flat _ .”

She took a shaky breath. “You’ve been gone nearly twenty years, Sirius.”

He blinked at her once, twice, and once more before bursting into laughter. “Oh fuck, you are really good.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?” 

“Just not good enough.” He emphasized each word as he shook his head, clearly amused. “I can’t believe the levels these blokes will go to try and pull one over on me.” A smirk spread across his lips. “But they forget that I was the one who taught them! Alas, they cannot fool the master.”

One finger tapped against his chin, his eyes lifting towards the ceiling in thought. “This is probably payback from that time I convinced Marlene McKinnon that James was in love with her and she snuck into his four-poster back at school. Gods, I thought he was going to impale me with his ant—his knife,” Sirius amended quickly.

“His antlers,” she corrected, annoyance bubbling up under her skin. “Because James is an Animagus—a stag, if we’re being specific.”

His eyes grew wide, and a hint of surprise flashed through them before fading into indifference. “Absolutely not. I don’t know who fed you that piece of centaurshite but you need to get better sources.”

Resisting the urge to shake him, Hermione found her eyes rolling of their own accord. “Honestly, I never would have thought this would be so complicated. Come into the living room with me and I will prove to you that this is not a prank.” She turned on her heel, fully expecting that he would follow.

Sirius chuckled low as he followed her down the hall. “As convincing as you were with your initial monologue—that was Remus, right? He’s always one for the dramatic reveals. You need to work on your followthrough, because ‘this is not a prank’ is  _ always  _ the first thing I say when I pull a prank.” He shrugged in practiced nonchalance. “But we can work on it. Maybe if you’re ready by Christmas we can trick Peter next.”

She led him into the living room, her heart pounding in her ears with each step.

“What did you do to Bertha?!”

Hermione took a step back, her gaze sweeping across the room. “Bertha?”

“My beautiful sofa; she’s missing.”

It took a moment to register his words. She thought back to the stained sofa that was simultaneously too soft and too hard, the mismatching pillows of different fabric, and the back that squeaked when anyone leaned against it. 

Hermione had upgraded to the spare sofa from her parents’ home. It was far nicer than anything she would have been able to afford on her own.

“That ragged old thing? It looked like it came straight from the rubbish heap.” Her face twisted in revulsion, recalling the odd smell. “It was the first thing I tossed when I remodeled last month.”

Sirius’s eye twitched. “Excuse you. She  _ was  _ from the rubbish heap. Moony and I found her the day we moved in; she was a diamond in the rough. ”

“More like an infested, stained piece of rubbish in the rough,” she muttered, lip slightly curled in irritation. Sirius had not seemed so obnoxious from his photograph.

He huffed, pacing the room as he inspected everything she had changed. Pausing in front of the artwork she had hung on the wall last week, he turned to her and pointed at the painting. “How did Remus have the money for this furniture? He can’t have done it alone. Did James put you up to this? Throw around some of his gold to get a rise out of me?”

“It’s from my mum,” she explained, her annoyance dissipating at the mention of James as she recalled their last conversation about Sirius.

_ He’s still our brother. _

The weight on her shoulders pushed her breath out in a heavy sigh. Without another word, Hermione retrieved a photo album from her bookcase, thumbing through the pages before gently placing it into his hands. “I really do think you should sit first.”

If he would not believe her words, then she would have to show him.

Finally conceding, he followed Hermione’s lead, sitting down next to her on  _ Not-Bertha _ . His hands gripped the album tightly, his knuckles strained white.

“I’m not part of an elaborate prank. Honestly, I wish I were because I don’t want to be the one telling you that you’ve been missing and presumed dead for two decades.” Hermione’s teeth caught her bottom lip, her heart racing in her chest. “You don’t have to believe me. I know I’m a complete stranger to you, but just look at the bloody book, Sirius.” 

Sirius faltered, his eyes trailing from her eyes to her lips and down to the book in his hands. His fingers slipped under the cover, pulling it open to the first page.

“They still love you.” Her voice was thick, a lump forming in her throat. She wrung her hands in front of her, watching as his eyes moved across the page. “And they still talk about you all the time.”

The book contained a series of images from Hermione’s visits to the Potters over the past decade. Ron had the large Weasley clan, but Hermione was an only child and she and Harry had become surrogate siblings since their first year at Hogwarts. Hermione spent many holidays learning about and celebrating magical traditions at the Potters and in turn, Harry came with her to her parents' house for their Muggle celebrations.

At the insistence of Lily and James, the tradition had carried over into weekly Sunday brunch at Potter Cottage as adults.

Sirius’ thumb traced over a recent image, taken just last summer. James had his arms around the shoulders of Harry and Hermione, the trio laughing as the image flashed. Lily wandered by in the background with Remus, the two in a deep discussion.

“He—but I—I just saw him yesterday. Holy fuck.” Sirius’ hands trembled as he turned each page in rapid succession, watching years progress in seconds. “This isn’t a prank, is it?” His voice rasped low, his eyes wide as the realisation that he really had been gone for twenty years dawned.

She shook her head, glancing down at the image as it looped. “No, it’s not.”

“Twenty years?” The words tumbled from his lips. “Twenty. Years,” he repeated in disbelief, unable to tear his eyes away from a picture of Remus and James grinning widely in front of a Christmas tree.

Speechless, Sirius’ eyes fixed on the infant in Remus’ arms.

Hermione pointed to the babe in the photograph. “That’s Remus’ son.”

“Moony has a son?” His words dragged out as if he had to pull them from his chest one by one.

“And a wife.”

A puff of breath released from his lips as his chest deflated. “He never… the Moony I knew, he wouldn’t have…”

“He didn’t want to, but Tonks is his mate. They’re absurdly in love”—a smile trickled across her lips—“and their son Teddy is just a sweetheart, the best parts of both of them.”

“Teddy,” Sirius repeated breathlessly as he watched the image repeat again and again.

“I know this must be a tremendous shock to you—”

Sirius barked out a panicked laugh. “A tremendous shock, no fucking kidding, a tremendous shock. Fucking hell,” he marvelled, dragging his hand across his face.

“We should go to the Potters,” Hermione asserted, her voice quiet. “They have waited for this moment for twenty years, they shouldn’t have to wait another second. I hope you know they never gave up hope that you would come back.”

“Twenty years.” Sirius swallowed, eyes still wide.

He shut the photo album and looked towards Hermione, though it was clear from the haze obscuring his gaze that he wasn’t even seeing her.

As he considered her words, his lips parted. “Let’s go. I need to see them.”

Hermione took a handful of Floo Powder, gesturing for Sirius to step into the fireplace first.

“Potter Cottage.”

Green flames licked at their ankles before enveloping the pair in a puff of smoke.

Their arrival triggered the family wards, but Hermione had received full access at age eleven and was able to bring Sirius through by grasping his hand. She dropped it immediately after they landed.

A shadowy figure appeared in the doorway, partially obscured by Sirius who was standing several steps in front of her. She felt her voice catch in her throat, unsure of how to proceed.

“Hermione?” Harry’s tired voice broke the silence of the partially lit receiving room as he stumbled towards the fireplace in his pyjamas, rubbing the sleep from his eyes which pushed his glasses up towards his forehead. “What are you doing here so late? Is something wrong?”

At the sound of Harry’s voice, Sirius stepped forward brushing past Hermione in long, determined strides until he was in front of Harry. “Prongs!” He pulled Harry into a hug and slapped him hard on the back. “James, I don’t know what—”

Disoriented and still half-asleep, Harry recoiled from the movement in confusion, pushing his palms against Sirius’ chest and looking to Hermione for answers. “What? James? I’m not—”

“Your eyes...” Sirius squinted as he leaned in closer to Harry. “You’re not…”

“Bloody hell.” The whisper of agony pierced the air, sucking the breath from Hermione’s lungs as she caught sight of James. He had frozen in place, immobile from shock, not even blinking as he stared at Sirius from across the room. In the dim light, Hermione could just make out the shine of tears in his eyes and the heave of his chest as he drew deep, unbelieving breaths. 

“P-Padfoot?” James’ voice broke, cracking with something akin to a heart-wrenching combination of anguish and awe. 

Turning to meet the voice, Sirius called out, “Prongs? Is that you? I’ve had a fucking hell of a night, let me tell you.”

The sound that bubbled up from James’ chest was halfway between a sob and a laugh as he crossed the threshold of the receiving room to pull Sirius into a crushing hug. “Sirius.” 

Retracting for a moment, James held Sirius’ face between his hands as he inspected him in disbelief. “I can’t believe it’s you.” His shoulders trembled as he embraced Sirius, holding tightly as if worried his friend would disappear again. 

“Mate, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like hell,” Sirius mumbled, his voice tight from James squeezing the breath out of him. “At least, a lot worse than you did yesterday.”

“Pads, it’s been—”

“Twenty years, I know. My lovely introduction to the future over there”—Sirius jerked his chin towards Hermione with a grin—“made sure to drill that bit of information into my brain. That is, after she shoved her wand in my face and threatened to petrify me.” His mouth curved up into a smirk. “I think I quite like her.”

James’ red rimmed eyes fell on Hermione, who was still standing next to the hearth. 

She felt like a voyeur, intruding on an intimate moment. Sensing her discomfort, as he had always been able to since childhood, Harry crossed the room to Hermione and placed his hand on her back.

“How?” James whispered.

She shrugged her shoulders, eyes flicking back and forth between James and Sirius. “I was at the flat, and I heard a noise in the spare room. He was laying on the floor, pissed and confused, so I gave him Sober-Up and brought him right over.”

Nodding, Sirius added, “I don’t remember anything, Prongs. I was in the living room, and I was fucking around with that ridiculous jar of blue dirt Moony had—what did he call it? ‘Archeological décor,’ or some shite? I just remember getting a tad bit too tipsy, and through absolutely no fault of my own, it fell. Next thing I know, this witch is screaming at me to get out of  _ her  _ flat.”

“I have to get Moony. He’s never going to believe this.” James’ voice trembled as he blinked away tears, stepping back but refusing to look away from Sirius. “I don’t even think I believe this.”

With a wave of his wand, James turned on the lights and quickly conjured his Patronus, kneeling down and muttering quietly to it. The glowing stag pranced away with its message, disappearing through the wall.

When a loud gasp broke the silence, everyone’s attention was drawn to the doorway behind James. Lily Potter stood there, tying her robe neatly around her waist.

“Sirius?!” Lily stumbled forward, halting only a step away from him with her arm extended, paused in the air as if she were afraid to touch him and find out he was a spectre. “I must be dreaming.”

“Though  _ I _ am a dream,  _ this _ is not.” Tossing her a cheeky grin, Sirius opened his arms wide to her. “Evans! It’s been too long! A lot longer for you than me, I suppose.”

Sirius picked Lily up off the ground and spun her once, stopping when she swatted at him to put her down. As her brain seemed to process his arrival in pieces, she fumbled over her words. “How? When? Oh my god. You look the same as the day you left! In fact, I distinctly recall telling you to toss that ratty old shirt, Sirius.”

“Let it go, Evans! This argument has been going on for twenty-three years and I think it’s safe to say that you lost.”

James cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm as his eyes darted between his wife and his best friend. “He just appeared in Hermione’s flat tonight.”

A flood of tears flowed over Lily’s cheeks as she met Hermione’s eyes. “You brought Sirius home?”

Hermione attempted to find the appropriate words to say, but for once, her mind remained silent until all she could do was nod. 

Lily’s bright green eyes were alight with joy as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Thank you for bringing him back, Hermione.”

“I didn’t—” Hermione hesitated, blinking back the tears pricking at her own eyes. “I just found him in my library. I don’t know how...”

Sensing her distress, Harry’s hand grasped hers, entwining their fingers and squeezing gently.

Just as she gave Harry a watery smile, a flash of green light danced across the room before dying out, and frantic steps came thudding from the fireplace, stopping dead at the sight of Sirius.

“I didn’t believe it,” Remus muttered, his eyes fixed on the man between James and Lily. “Sirius, is it really you?”

“In the flesh,” Sirius quipped weakly. “Gods, you guys got old.”

Remus grinned wildly, running a hand through his grey-streaked sandy brown hair. He tugged James and Sirius into a three-way embrace, and the trio clung to each other in silence for several moments.

“Where’s Peter?” Sirius asked, glancing at the fireplace. “Is he coming?”

James sighed, the weight of everything that had happened pulling on his shoulders as he shared a look with Remus. “Pads, mate, we have a lot to catch you up on since you disappeared.”

Lily stepped back, fidgeting with the ties on her robe as she gave a quick nod. “Go, you should have your moment. We’ll be here when you’re done.”

With a quick kiss to Lily’s forehead, James turned back to his Sirius and Remus. “Let’s go to the study; it’s quiet there. We can talk.”

“Gods, you sound like your father,” Sirius laughed as a flash of mischief danced across his cheeks. “You look like—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Padfoot!” James’ eyes lit up like Hermione had never seen. He tucked an arm around Sirius’ shoulders and the trio laughed through their tears.

“We missed you so much.” Hermione heard one of the men murmur as their footsteps faded from the receiving room.

“I can’t believe he’s back.” Harry pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, watching the empty doorway in shock.

Hermione exhaled softly, her heart full. “I can’t believe it, either. Did you see the look on your father’s face?”

“I’ve never seen him look so happy.”

“I think he found a part of himself tonight.” Lily wrapped an arm around Harry and Hermione. “Come now, it’s best we let them catch up. Hermione, we still have your old room put together if you don’t want to go home between now and Sunday brunch tomorrow—today? Either way, you know you’re always welcome here.”

Even though it would just be a quick trip through the Floo, Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek as she weighed her options. Seeing Remus and James so utterly happy made her want to stay, but at the same time, she felt like an outsider in their reunion. Harry took the decision out of her hands.

“Want to have an overnight? Like old times?”

A smile bloomed over her cheeks, recalling the late nights they spent sneaking around Potter Cottage as children, stealing ice lollies from the kitchen and watching Muggle films with singing cartoons. “Like old times. I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight, but I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t imagine having to explain this to you in the morning.”

“I have the first phase of my Auror examination on Monday,” he explained, cheeks pinking. “Put off studying a bit—”

Hermione tutted as Harry rubbed his neck, reminding her of their schooldays when she chided him and Ron for procrastinating on their assignments.

“Dad was going to help me cram this weekend. We spent today practising and tomorrow is brunch, so Mum invited me to stay.” His eyes trailed to the empty doorway. “But I have a feeling Dad is going to be rather preoccupied tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at CurlyKay
> 
> Updates every Sunday


	3. Finding a Flatmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the excitement and interest in the story so far! I've absolutely loved reading your thoughts and comments on the first two chapters! As far as the magic/circumstance that sent Sirius into the future, there's a slow burn on the mystery of that, a few of the smaller pieces are already revealed but the answers don't come until later chapters :) Happy reading!
> 
> All the love to my fantastic Alphabet, LumosLyra and PotionChemist, and pre-readers/baby alphas LauraArmada and BreathofThePhoenix for all of your help and encouragement! I'd be lost without you ❤️

Stretching her arms above her head, Hermione blinked away the sleep from her eyes. She felt dazed as the events of the previous night came rushing back to her.

Sirius Black had been in her flat.

She slipped out of the bedcovers, her feet pressing against the wooden floor of the spare room that the Potters had decorated for her childhood visits. Hermione shivered with cold, pulling the spare robe from the foot of the bed around her shoulders. Since she had been in a rush to get Sirius to the Potter's, she hadn't even considered bringing a change of clothing and was still in her pyjamas.

The dining room was filled with boisterous laughter which echoed through the hallway of the home. Hermione fought back a smile, imagining that neither Remus nor James let Sirius out of their sight all night.

"And then, Evans—yes, your mum—lined his robes with owl treats, so the next morning at breakfast your poor innocent father was nearly pecked to death by a hundred owls at the Gryffindor table," Sirius chuckled as he piled several rashers of bacon onto his plate.

"Mum!" Harry turned to her, mirth dancing in his green eyes as he reached for the jam. "You really did that to Dad?"

Lily clicked her tongue, waving a finger at Sirius. "Oh, hush, Sirius Black. James was neither poor nor innocent in that matter. How about I tell you what he did to deserve it?"

James shook his head frantically, his gaze catching on Hermione in the doorway. "Hermione! Look everyone! Hermione's awake and we should definitely talk about that and ignore the rest of that story."

The dining room was exceptionally full today with Remus, Tonks, and Teddy sitting across from Sirius, James, Lily, and Harry at the large table that took pride of place in the center of the room.

"My-Me!" a small voice squealed and Hermione heard a shuffle of little feet before she spotted a blur of orange hair through the gaps in the chairs as Teddy Lupin ran to her.

As Hermione swept him up into her arms, he nuzzled his head against her shoulder. "Why, good morning, Teddy! Goodness, have you grown since I last saw you? It was two weeks ago but I swear you weren't this big."

He giggled, his hair turning from orange to yellow. "No! I didn't."

The uncanny feeling of being watched swept over her, and when she glanced over top of Teddy's bright head of canary yellow hair, Hermione found Sirius Black staring at her curiously as he toyed with a piece of bacon between his fingers.

"Good morning." She offered a small smile to Sirius before turning her attention back to Teddy.

Teddy scrunched his nose in a gesture eerily reminiscent of his mother, turning his wavy yellow hair jet black and curly. It was clear who his new favourite was.

"I think Sirius has a new admirer in little Teddy," Lily hummed softly as she sauntered past Hermione. "Glad you were able to get some sleep last night, dear. The boys were up all night talking."

James feigned offense, puffing out his chest. "Boys? I'll have you know we are men. Manly men who do manly things."

"I couldn't tell by the way you were giggling to yourselves last night. I arrived not ten minutes after Remus and you were already acting like teenagers again," Tonks teased as she tore up a piece of toast for Teddy.

Sirius leveled his gaze on Tonks. "Those were most certainly not _giggles_."

"You know, that sounds suspiciously like something someone who giggled would say," Hermione teased as she handed Teddy back to Tonks before taking a seat at the table, a cheeky smile rising to her lips.

As brunch wrapped up, Hermione marvelled at how young Remus and James looked as they joked with Sirius. It was as if someone had dropped a De-Aging Potion into their morning tea.

After Hermione took her plate into the kitchen, she made her way across the room to Sirius who was leaning against the door of the pantry, nursing a cup of coffee.

The words came out in a rush. "I just wanted to let you know I can be out by tomorrow. I'm sure Lily and James would let me stay here or I could stay with my mum and dad until I secure a flat, but it might take a few days to transport my stuff. I have a lot of books."

His eyes wrinkled and his head cocked to the side in apparent confusion. "Out by tomorrow? I'm not kicking you out of the flat, Hermione. I talked with Remus and James last night and they told me about you. You're family."

"But it's your flat," she pressed, folding her arms over her chest. "Don't you need somewhere to live? I was under the impression that you detested Grimmauld Place."

Sirius blanched at the mention of his childhood home, passing the coffee cup between his hands. "I do, but it would appear I'm down a flatmate." His eyes drifted to Remus who was preoccupied with wiping strawberry jam off Teddy's hands and face. "There is an extra room, if you're still interested."

"I had briefly considered living with trolls." Hermione tapped her bottom lip in thought as her eyes lifted before leveling on Sirius with a wry smile. "I _suppose_ I could settle for a human flatmate."

"Don't trolls live under bridges?" He wrinkled his nose in an endearing manner.

She sputtered, fighting back a peal of laughter. "Please, do me a favour and say that to Remus, but be prepared to go into the conversation with strong opinions about the proper shape, colour, and texture of feather plumes."

"Rounded edges, white, and feathery."

She scoffed, watching as he raised the mug to his lips and took a long drink of coffee. "I am _not_ getting into this discussion again. Your army of trolls can have orange pointy feathers for all I care; mine will be in tactical camouflage and that's final."

The way he looked at her caused her breath to catch. "I don't think I'll mind living with you, Hermione Granger."

"Are you sure? However will you survive without Bertha?" Hermione fluttered her eyelashes and leaned forward, a teasing glint in her brown eyes. "I can purchase some fleas to drop in your bed, for nostalgia's sake."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "You should be better than the last bloke; at least if _you_ bite me, I'll enjoy it."

Her cheeks flushed pink, and when he winked, something stirred in her chest.

The more she tried to tamp down the embarrassment from his teasing, the warmer she felt. Hermione had heard stories about Sirius and his insatiable appetite for witches from Remus and James. She knew better than to take his flirting seriously, but Merlin help her if it wasn't nice to be flirted with by a handsome man. Over the past year, her dating life had been practically nonexistent following the ex-boyfriend who will not be named.

His gaze brushed across her cheeks, a smirk on his lips.

She made a point to roll her eyes. "As if you'd ever be so lucky. I accept your proposal, though I do have to insist on continuing to pay rent."

"Deal. How about five Galleons a month?"

Hermione groaned.

* * *

Sirius stacked a pile of plates in his arms and carried them into the kitchen, setting them down next to the sink.

"Did she agree?" Remus flicked his wand until the sponges began to scrub away the remnants of food under a steady stream of running water.

"I mean, she did mention something about trolls, which was odd, but yeah, it looks like I have a new flatmate. Jealous that you've been replaced, Moony?" Sirius wiggled his eyebrows as Teddy sprinted through the kitchen and out the door on the other end, cackling like a hyena.

A moment later, Hermione came rushing through, holding her arms out and making silly roaring sounds as she chased after the giggling toddler.

Remus' eyes caught on Sirius' gaze as it lingered on Hermione a moment too long.

Green eyes widened and the magic cleaning the dishes faltered, causing the plates to fall back into the sink with a clatter. "Oh no. James!"

James's head popped into view as he peeked around the corner before fully walking into the kitchen. Simultaneously, Hermione disappeared through the back door. "What's wrong? Whatever it was, I didn't do it."

Remus looked from Sirius to where Hermione had just been and back to James.

James firmly fixed his gaze on Sirius. "No."

"Would someone like to explain what's going on to the new guy? Well, the new old guy? Or is it the old young guy?" Sirius asked, his brow furrowing as he crossed his arms and leaned against the countertop.

The two men turned to Sirius. "Absolutely not, mate. She's completely off limits," James insisted.

"I didn't even do anything!" Sirius held his hands out in front of him in a bid to stem the simmering tempers of his two best friends. "Whatever you're accusing me of, I'm completely innocent."

"You didn't have to. I remember that look very well." Remus set the dishes to washing again. "Don't think I didn't see you staring at her arse."

"It's a very good arse," Sirius grumbled under his breath.

A low growl rumbled up from Remus' chest.

Sirius huffed, waving it off. "You're imagining it, mate. In fact, I dare say your eyesight is going in your old age."

"Sirius." James narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice, reminiscent of the way he would have scolded Harry when he was younger. "You're our brother, but she's our _daughter_. We won't hesitate to hex your bollocks off if you treat her like one of your one-night witches."

"Off. Limits," Remus repeated firmly, enunciating each word.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I heard you the first time. No touching Hermione."

" _Definitely_ no touching."

"Or looking."

"Try not to smell her either."

"Really, gents? If I can't even look at my flatmate, there are going to be some serious complications. What? Do I have to treat her like the local Basilisk?"

"Yes!" James and Remus replied in unison.

A devilish smirk tugged at Sirius' lips. "I'd like to be the first to point out that you never mentioned anything about _tasting._ "

"Sirius, I _swear to god_ if I find out _you licked—_ " Remus began, his voice low and threatening.

James cut him off with an obvious clearing of his throat, signalling that they were no longer alone in the room.

"Hermione!" Remus greeted with a little too much enthusiasm when he noticed the witch in the doorway.

With a bright smile lighting up her face, she replied, "Remus, your son has unlimited energy."

All three men were looking around the room, avoiding her eyes with sheepish expressions.

"Okay." She surveyed the suspiciously silent room, glancing down at her pyjamas with a grimace. "Well, somewhere around the third lap of the house I began to regret my fashion choices from last night. Not quite suitable for playing dragons. If you don't mind, I think I'll head back to the flat."

Sirius' eyes remained fixed on the wooden plank below his feet.

From his peripheral he caught a flash of her hand waving for his attention. "Sirius? Did you want to stay here a bit longer?"

Sirius glanced up at James and back to the floor. "I'm ready to get out of the old geezers' hair for now. I'll come back after I've had the chance to shower and change."

"Okay…" The word ended in a rising, questioning intonation. "Ready to go home?"

At the word 'home', Sirius looked up at her reflexively, meeting her rich and inquisitive eyes.

Sirius had spent the night mourning the loss of the only home he had ever known, twenty years in the past. He had woken to find his family had grown up without him.

Home.

The word burned in his chest like a shot of firewhisky.

Her lips parted slightly as if she was going to speak and then closed again.

"I'm ready." Sirius offered an arm to Hermione, throwing a smug smile to Remus. "Back to Orenda Way?"

Hermione grinned, accepting his arm by threading her own around it. "Lead the way, flatmate."

James tugged at his unruly hair, frowning at Remus as the pair retreated to the fireplace. "What do you think the chances are he's going to listen to us and stay away from Hermione?"

Remus shook his head woefully. "WWWD?"

"Oh, fuck."

* * *

"Here it is. Excluding Bertha, I kept just about everything from your room in storage. Like I said earlier, the flat was practically a memorial for you until I moved in last month." Hermione gestured to the storage unit in front of him, stacked high with his keepsakes.

"You saved my leather? You wonderful little witch, I could kiss you!" Sirius rushed forward, snatching a black leather jacket off the top of the nearest pile and shrugging it on.

"Oh." She cocked her head, eyebrows raising and lips quirking in amusement. "The jacket doesn't have a name? Is that a right reserved only for Bertha the sofa?"

"I'm too happy to humour you with a response right now," he mumbled, his eyes closed as he wiggled his shoulders and retrieved a wand from the pocket. He balanced the wand in his hand, exhaling deeply. "Feels like I never left. Luckily, just like me, leather ages well."

Turning to Hermione, a calm and serious expression came over his features as he shook his head. "You have no idea the sheer terror that came over me when I realised that I was in the future and may have had to come face-to-face with a 40-year-old Moony sporting my memorialised leather jacket."

With an inelegant snort, she covered her mouth with her hand. "Merlin, I would pay good money to see that."

Sirius tossed her a half-grin. "Got a thing for werewolves in leather?"

Hermione's face contorted in disgust as she shuddered. "Ugh, you realise he practically raised me, right?"

"Just wizards in leather then, noted." He smirked in a self-satisfied manner, continuing his search through the unit as she stood at the edge. "I'll just take what I need for now and come back for the rest of it later."

"I'll start moving my books out so you can have your room back." It was disappointing; Hermione had only finished the library a week ago and now it was being converted back to Sirius' room.

Slinging a bag over his shoulder, he opened the pouch and began filling it with miscellaneous trinkets. "Is someone mourning the loss of her swot space?"

Her eyes tightened at his teasing words. "My _library_ , and yes, I'll have you know that it was a delightful space of tranquility until a certain man flailed around the room like a slighted Hippogriff."

"I don't know, Hermione," Sirius hummed under his breath, shifting one of the boxes aside to dig around in another. "That level of creative destruction sounds like something only an impossibly attractive man would do."

"Got a thing for Hippogriffs in libraries?"

"Just pretty witches in swot spaces."

"Libraries," she corrected as her teeth dug into her lower lip.

As he began handing items to Hermione, she balanced them one by one until she had to use the underside of her chin to hold the stack in place. "I thought you said just what you needed for now?" She carefully readjusted the pile in her arms to retrieve her wand from her trousers.

"I have a thorough hair and skin regimen," he informed her with a crooked grin, tossing a few shirts onto her stack, his voice muffling as his head disappeared back into the wooden wardrobe. "Do you think I just wake up looking like this?"

"You do realise we have magic and don't have to carry this by hand?" She cast a feather-light and levitation charm in quick succession until everything Sirius had piled in her arms was floating in a neat stack nearby, following her as she moved.

Closing the wardrobe doors with a click, Sirius adjusted the bag strap around his shoulder and gave her an inquiring look. "Interesting; from the stories I heard about you, I wouldn't have guessed you'd be so reliant on magic for basic tasks."

"I'm not reliant—" She cut herself off, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Tell me more about these stories you heard about me."

"The Brightest Witch of Her Age, and a Muggleborn no less—Walburga would've _loved_ that—who grew up with my godson, keeping his arse in line." He stopped, musing aloud, fingers swiping over his stubbled jaw. "My godson, who is the same age as me. Odd how life works out."

"Harry has a knack for getting himself into situations he shouldn't be in, awfully similar to stories I've heard about a certain set of Marauders."

"Legends."

Selecting a ring-sized box off the floating pile and inspecting it carefully, Hermione muttered, "Must be genetic. Harry never stood a chance."

Sirius took the box from her hand, tossing it in the air before catching it and tucking it into the pocket of his jacket.

"Yes, we Marauders didn't have a Hermione to keep us on the straight and narrow. Pity."

"You had a Lily."

When Sirius let out a laugh, the noise felt warm in her chest. "I'm starting to think that you received an extremely edited version of history from the Potters if you think that Lily wasn't the instigator for many a prank. In fact, even though she would never admit it, Lily was responsible for The Great Pumpkin Juice Waterfall of '77. Closed down the Great Hall for a week."

Hermione's eyes widened. She'd heard countless tales about the adventures of James, Sirius, and Remus but never once had they mentioned Lily contributing to the mischief. "Okay, now you _have_ to tell me more."

"Not on your life, little witch."

She scrunched her nose, her hands resting on her hips. "Why do you keep calling me that? I am the same age as you, thank you very much."

Sirius grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. He seemed to forget all about his task as he inspected her. "And about a head shorter. So, what happened according to Lily's version of history at Hogwarts?"

"I don't have much information; I mean, she's shared a few stories from her courtship with James at school—"

"—By courtship you mean James falling in love with Lily during our first year and spending the next five years following her around and convincing her to tolerate him?"

Hermione shot him a glare. "—but I have a feeling her stories were heavily edited as well. Not that we exactly want those details."

"Having lived through it, be glad they told you the minimum." A shudder ran through him, and a haunted look crossed his face as he looked over her shoulder, his eyes glazing over. "The outermost four-poster on the third floor of the boys dorm has a permanent indent from those two during seventh year."

" _Oh god_."

"Yeah, I remember that specific phrase being said by Lily _a lot._ James is awful with remembering to use a Silencing Charm."

The longer she thought on his words, the more she wished the memory of the last minute of her life could be obliviated from her mind.

"Either way, the stories they shared about you were all positive. If you weren't aware, they're quite protective of you. They call you their daughter and everything. You have James and Remus wrapped around your finger," he mentioned offhandedly, rummaging around in his bag before pulling out a small glass bottle.

Popping the cork, he downed the liquid and tossed the empty bottle back in the unit.

"If you die, I'm not taking the blame."

He smirked. "It'll take a lot more than that to kill me, beautiful. Though I wouldn't mind if you were the last thing I'd ever see. I suppose I'd have come back as a ghost for you, unfinished business, and all."

She ignored his flattery, squeezing past him and casting a quick charm to organise part of the chaos of the unit. "I grew up with Muggle parents but also two sets of magical parents. I wasn't exaggerating when I said that I've heard stories about you my entire life."

"Hopefully good stories." His mouth tightened as he shifted a box over, shuffling through the contents for several moments before dropping it back on the ground with a sigh. "Or, at the minimum, neutral stories."

"That depends on your definition of good, I'm sure Peeves would've loved every story."

"The poltergeist? That little shite is still terrorising the corridors of Hogwarts? Gods, next you're going to tell me Filch is still there."

She covered her mouth with her hand, muffling her laugh before her eye caught on a dark blue shirt that she thought would bring out his stormy grey eyes. Snagging it from the pile, she handed it to him and he added it to their evergrowing stack as Hermione continued, "He was the caretaker while I was at school."

"Isn't he a hundred by now?"

"Even better, guess who taught Potions?" she added with a sly smile, loving his reactions. The look on his face drove her to continue teasing him by revealing bits from the past twenty years.

"I don't like the way you've set this up, who was it? Mary Macdonald? Bertha Jorkins?"

"Bertha— _Sirius Black_ , did you name your lumpy old couch after a real person?!"

"Did Remus snog the Whomping Willow on a dare?" Sirius replied matter-of-factly as he waved his wand, locking the unit with a click.

She blinked. "Wait, did he? Because I'm just saying, logistically—"

"Answer the question, Hermione Granger."

"Severus—" she started, pausing for effect.

Sirius gasped.

"—Snape." Hermione emphasized the 'p' at the end of the Potion Master's name dramatically with a pop of her lips.

"No! Snivellus?! Gods, next you're going to tell me Moony taught History of Magic and Wanda the Unicorn taught Charms."

A laugh bubbled past her lips as they made their way back up the stairs to the flat, Sirius' belongings drifting in the air behind them. "Remus was my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor all seven years. He's friends with Severus and everything. Severus and Eloise even came over for Christmas dinner last year with their daughter Iris."

His jaw slacked. "You're telling me someone _married_ him? As in, there is a woman out there who willingly took the last name 'Snape' and even had a child with him? Has anyone checked this poor woman for the Imperius Curse? A love potion? A pygmy puff up the arse?"

"A pygmy—Sirius, that is _not_ how that works."

Brows raising, he tossed her a look. "How would you know? Have you tried it?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Iris was in the year before me and she's quite lovely. Last I heard, she was dating Cedric Diggory."

"Shite. No kidding." He stared in wonderment as his mind processed the information. "I would like to apologise on behalf of my generation for what I can only assume has been an absolute travesty of an education."

Shrugging, she unlocked the door to the flat and swung the door open. "It wasn't nearly as bad as you think; I had a great education at Hogwarts. They were some of the best years of my life so far. That's where I met Harry and Ron."

"I heard about those years too. James and Remus bragged about you more than anyone else last night," he added. "Hermione Granger, Prefect, Head Girl, top of her class."

She made a noncommittal noise, levitating his items through the flat and into her old library. "I've been working my way up the Ministry, same as James did before he became head of the DMLE. He was actually the one who encouraged me to apply. Did he mention that Harry has his final Auror examinations this week? He'll be a full fledged Auror."

"He did." He nodded, his eyes fixed on the items as they disappeared through the doorway. "I'm proud of Harry. Just wish I could've been there to see him grow up. Fuck, just yesterday the kid was slobbering on my arm. It still feels like a dream."

"He still does that if you get enough firewhisky in him," she quipped.

"Just like his father." Sirius tucked his wand back in the pocket of his jacket. "I suppose I'd better go unpack. Thank Circe they saved my wand. Can you imagine trying to explain this to Ollivander?" He glanced down at himself.

"You'll be the envy of all with that age defying hair and skin regimen of yours."


	4. A Sirius Interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for the comments and kudos on this story, you all inspire me to keep writing and I just love seeing your comments/thoughts/ideas so far!
> 
> All the Alphabet love to LumosLyra and PotionChemist and my pre-readers/baby alphas LauraArmada and BreathofThePhoenix for your neverending patience and help! ❤️

“I take it you don’t need a tour?” Hermione mused, looking from Sirius to the open flat.

“I think I might be able to find my way around,” he muttered with a quirk of his brow. “I have lived here for nearly three years now which greatly overshadows your one month. Perhaps I should be the one giving you the tour, little witch?”

“Tour away,” she prompted with a flick of her hand. “And I’m not a little witch.”

Sirius’ voice deepened, and his arms spread out wide as he gestured around the room. “Welcome to Orenda Way, seated in the heart of Muggle London; it is a classic two bedroom, one bathroom flat with a full kitchen that has never been used for its intended purpose.” His tone was inflected with the posh pompous manner of speech the wizarding elite favoured that Hermione silently mocked during every Ministry event.

She fought back a smile.

“Built in 1893, it has stood the test of time in both class and style. To your left, you’ll see a wall, to your right, another wall. And you’ll never guess what’s behind you. Due to the visionary architect, this flat was designed with many walls.”

Hermione strolled over to the nearby shelf, plucking off a notebook as Sirius’ continued.

“Once home to a beautiful sofa which departed this world before her time—”

She scribbled on the parchment, slowly raising the page into his line of sight.

“The magnitude of loss is—” he hesitated, eyeing her parchment. “What...what is that?”

“Your tour rating.”

He pushed his shoulders back, appearing ruffled. “That was _significantly_ better than a three, unless the scale is out of three. If that’s the case, then a three would be an accurate reflection of my skills.”

“Am I mistaken?” She turned the notebook and glanced at it before turning it back to Sirius. “I don’t know, it sure looks like a three to me. Perhaps the numbering system has changed since you were in school.”

His eyes pulled at the corners, crinkles of annoyance gathering at the edges as he navigated to the other side of the room, stopping at the edge of the entrance to the kitchen.

“If you look to the kitchen, on that very countertop, an extremely intoxicated Moony sang a rendition of the hit song ‘Magic’ by Olivia Newton-John while shooting purple sparks out of his wand nearly two decades ago.” Sirius tried to look uninterested but his eyes flicked up to her face for approval.

Hermione paused, slowly lowering her quill to the parchment.

The paper raised, she had added a loop around the bottom of the three and the ink bled through the back of the paper, the inverse side now read ‘6’.

With a satisfied smirk, Sirius turned around and led her down the hall, tilting his head back to glance at her before announcing, “And I’m fully convinced Harry was conceived in that bathtub after a game of ‘Never Have I Ever: Hogwarts Edition’. The timing is too exact to be a coincidence.”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust, missing the person she was twenty seconds ago—before she had that information. “God, I didn’t need to know that one. I’ll never look at that loo the same way again.”

“I _Scourgified_ it for nearly an hour the next day. I don’t think it’s ever been so clean and yet so filthy at the same time.”

“Are we trauma-bonding right now?”

“My second favourite type of bondage.” He winked and reached out to tuck a curl behind her ear, causing heat to bloom in her chest. “Your bedroom used to be shared by James and Remus when we were fresh Hogwarts graduates. James had a station for brewing Moony’s Wolfsbane. Let me tell you about the time he tried to brew an…” he paused, tapping his finger against his chin as if trying to decide on a word, “ _endurance_ potion and turned himself blue.”

Eyes widening with shock, she added a quick loop and lifted the parchment to display an ‘8’.

Sirius grinned.

* * *

“Bloody hell!”

The slamming of kitchen cabinets pulled Hermione out of the sordid tale of Viscount Langley and Lady Iracibella Plinth. Over the past week, she had gotten used to her flatmate’s interruptions. Whenever he was home, there was noise and commotion. Shoving a bookmark into her novel and tossing it on the nightstand next to her, she hopped off the bed and popped her head out into the hallway towards the commotion. “Sirius? Everything alright?”

“No, everything is not _alright_ ,” he grumbled, barely visible at the edge of the kitchen where he rustled through the cabinets, slamming each in turn and muttering under his breath.

Sliding her feet into her slippers, Hermione shuffled down the hall to the kitchen, coming face to face with an irate looking Sirius in his pyjamas. He looked sinfully good; he had a taste for Muggle fashion, she noted, eyeing the way his shirt pulled taut across his broad shoulders and how low his joggers sat on his hips. It took a moment for her to register his words.

“What are you on about?” she asked, rubbing at her temples in annoyance.

“First, you assassinate Bertha and dispose of the body, then you’re out of alcohol—did you know you’re out of alcohol?”

She pointed just above his head and to the left. “We have alcohol in the upper cabinet.”

“No,” he argued, “there’s only Butterbeer and wine up there.”

Cocking her head, she flipped her palms up in confusion. “And...? Sirius, you are aware that those are alcoholic, are you not?”

He growled in frustration, closing the pantry door and leaning back against the counter. “That’s a half step above giggle-water.” He groaned again, the deep rumble vibrating from his chest. “I can’t find a single bloody thing in the entire bloody kitchen. I had a system!”

“A system? You just piled rubbish everywhere! I could barely open half the drawers.”

“Yes, but the piles were the system,” he explained, as if it were obvious. His eyes caught on the empty counter to his right and he leaned against it, his arms crossed in front of him. “Where’s the damn toaster?”

Frowning, she leaned towards him, raising on her toes and reaching just behind his head to open the cabinet. “It’s on the shelf next to the bread box.” Her chest brushed against his as she shifted around him and she saw his breath catch. “You know, the logical place for a toaster.”

“I put the toaster on the countertop,” Sirius mentioned, his dark eyes holding something she couldn’t identify as he watched her.

“That’s ridiculous,” she chided, taking a step back and trying to push down the feeling in her stomach. “It just holds up the space. What about the times you don’t need to toast bread?”

“I always toast bread.”

“...you _perpetually_ toast bread?”

“Perpetually.”

“But you’re not—” Hermione scowled as he twisted around, reached inside the open cabinet and took a single slice of bread from the bread box.

He pulled out the toaster and plugged it into the outlet next to the oven, refusing to break eye contact as he dropped the slice into the slot. “I’m toasting, right now.” Pushing the lever down, he emphasized each syllable. “Perpetually.”

With a roll of her eyes, she stomped back to her room, feeling the heat of his stare on her as she walked away.

Several minutes later, Sirius stuck his head into the doorway of her room. “We’re out of bread.”

Waving her hand, she wandlessly slammed the door in his face.

At the buzz of her alarm, Hermione woke, showered, dressed, and made her way into the dining room for breakfast. Sirius was sitting at the kitchen table, fully dressed and munching on a piece of toast that he had most likely retrieved from his stockpile following their disagreement the night before.

“Did James talk with you about the DMLE incident report?” Hermione asked, snagging a banana from the nearby stand and peeling it carefully before she sat down next to him at the breakfast nook.

“Good morning to you too, little witch.” Sirius smiled as she made a face at the pet-name-that-irritated-her-to-no-end. “He may have briefly mentioned it. Though I’m not sure why, he’s aware of how I detest the Ministry and my complete lack of regard for authority.”

Biting into the banana, she chewed for several moments before replying, “Sirius Black, antiestablishment, I never would’ve guessed.”

“I should get that tattooed on my arse,” he mentioned, taking a long sip of his black coffee. “I'll make room next to the first one.”

“You already have a tattoo on your arse?” A laugh bubbled up in her chest as her traitorous mind imagined the possibilities. “What is it?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Maybe I’ll show you sometime.”

She leaned closer and patted him on the head gently, her voice dripping with patronizing assurance. “We’ll get right on that. The tattoo parlour will be our second stop, right after the Ministry.” Over his loud groan, she continued, “James filled them in on the situation but we have to bring you to the Department of Mysteries for your official statement. The Department of Time is quite interested in your story.”

“Great, a bunch of bloody bureaucrats poking around my business. A dream come true.” He collected his plate and placed it in the sink with a clatter.

“One of those ‘bloody bureaucrats’ is your best mate”—she tossed her banana peel into the rubbish—“and another is your flatmate.”

His chin hit his chest and he heaved a deep sigh. “Don’t remind me how far Prongs has fallen. I was not here to catch him.”

She snorted, handing him his coffee cup from the table. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a tad dramatic?”

Narrowing his eyes, Sirius lifted his head and glowered as he downed the last of his coffee.

“Let’s go to the Ministry,” she suggested, looping her arm through his and guiding him over to the fireplace. “We can see the bureaucrats in their natural habitat.”

Sirius pouted and grumbled from the moment they stepped through the hearth and into the black tiled visitors’ entrance of the Ministry through the queue to the check-in desk. Even though she had hissed at him from under her breath to be nice, he still snarked at the secretary who raised her brows at his name and birthdate.

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Hermione insisted, tired from dragging a sulking Sirius into the lift.

“They took my wand,” he lamented as the lift began to move. She lost her balance and on instinct, his hand caught her, resting on the small of her back. “A man’s wand is precious, sacred. Second only to...well, his _other_ wand.”

“Department of Mysteries, Level Nine,” a voice declared. 

Sirius’ hand lingered for a moment before dropping and her back felt cold from the loss of contact.

James Potter stood in front of the opening doors, glancing at his watch. “You’re—”

“Eight minutes late, I know.” She held back a sigh, ushering Sirius out of the lift. “But I had additional obstacles to deal with this morning that threw off my schedule.”

“The obstacle can hear you,” Sirius added tacitly, wandering away from the pair.

“After seven years at Hogwarts, I’m well aware of the morning you must have had,” James sympathized, ignoring Sirius’ grumpy disposition. “They aren’t expecting us for another few minutes anyway. I added buffer time.”

“On account of the obstacle,” Hermione concluded with a grin.

Sirius’ scoff echoed through the hall.

“Auror Potter?” An authoritative voice paired with the clacking of heels made its way towards the trio. “I’m Unspeakable Yanen. I’ve been assigned your case.”

“Nice to meet you Unspeakable Yanen, I’m Auror Potter and this is Ms.Granger from the DRCMC.” James’ extended a hand, shaking it before stepping aside for Hermione to greet her as well.

Sirius watched the interaction from several feet away, a pained expression flashed over his face as he fixated on her badge. 

“Pleasure.” Her monotone implied anything but. “Mr. Black, we are ready for your interview. Please, follow me.” Yanen turned promptly, indicating with a wave of her wand for them to trail behind her.

Dragging his feet, Sirius begrudgingly continued behind James and Hermione.

Yanen stopped abruptly, raising a hand to Hermione and halting her in place. “Ms. Granger, we thank you for escorting the subject here but there is no need for you to attend this session. We will be in touch for your version of events later this week.” She looked down her nose at Hermione with a derisive stare. “In fact, you do not have the clearance to go any further down this hall.”

She heard Sirius chortle before covering it with a brief cough.

“Of course.” She shook herself mentally; it was logical that she would not be allowed into the Department of Time. “I have a meeting in an hour,” she said, smoothing down her skirt. “I’ll see you two after work?”

“See you soon.” James smiled before physically turning Sirius’ shoulders and pushing him towards the department entrance where Hermione was sure a room of Unspeakables was waiting for him.

Just as the lift doors were closing, Sirius exclaimed, “Don’t worry! The subject will miss you, little witch!”

After dropping Sirius off on the seventh floor, time felt like it crept by at a snail's pace for the remainder of her day. 

Eyes narrowing at the clock, she huffed under her breath and shuffled her papers around for the third time that hour, clearing up the remaining files from her work day. As she leaned back in her chair, she let out an exhausted sigh and wondered why Sirius and James hadn’t stopped by after his interview. 

Hermione generally saw James at work a few times a week, whether in passing or at a scheduled lunch with Harry. According to James’ estimate when they talked the night before, the entire process should have taken no more than an hour. Sirius had given less than a two sentence explanation for his side of events at the Potter’s on that first night, and unless he had found new information there was no way that statement could take an entire day to share.

A paper airplane flew into her office, landing on her desk with a flutter of its wings.

**_Hermione, please head back to the flat. Long night ahead. Will stay with Sirius._ **

**_-James_ **

She frowned, thumbing the paper softly. That was odd.

With a shrug and a wave of her wand, her desk organised itself and her documents tucked themselves away securely in her briefcase. She made the commute home alone and spent the night trying out a new recipe for roasted lemon chicken. After failing spectacularly, she quickly disposed of the evidence and purchased shrimp tacos from a food truck down the street. 

That night, just before bed, the Floo rushed green and Sirius emerged from the flames. Having settled in her favourite spot on the armchair by the window hours prior, she glanced up from her book with curiosity. 

Perhaps she would receive an explanation for why he was held at the Ministry for an entire day.

“Fucking bureaucrats,” he groused as he brushed past her, stomping down the hall before disappearing into his room and slamming the door.

Perhaps not.

The next morning, Hermione left a serving of eggs frying in the pan as she opened the closest cabinet and retrieved several slices of bread. There was a glaringly empty space on the second shelf where the toaster was stored.

It was not in the cabinet.

It was not on the counter top. 

She quickly made her way around the kitchen, opening and closing each cabinet and drawer with no success in locating the elusive toaster, her annoyance growing as each second passed.

She tossed her head back, a grunt of agitation escaping at her failed plight. At that moment, her eye caught on a glint of silver just above her. 

Her eyes lifted only to find the toaster firmly attached to the ceiling.

“Sirius Black!”

“It’s the logical place for a toaster!” he called back through his closed door, and she swore could hear the smirk in his voice. “I’ll provide the demonstration next time I make toast.”

“I thought you made toast—”

His door swung open. “Perpetually,” he finished her sentence, dragging a hand through his hair. “Damn it, you’re right, I’ll be out in a minute.”

She wondered what she had signed up for, agreeing to live with Sirius Black. It was satisfying to twist his own teasing into a benefit for her. As she mused on how to lure him into a rousing debate on proper preparation of eggs, she considered that with the right strategy, she could trick him into making her breakfast each morning for months.

Despite her best intentions, a smile crept onto her lips at the thought.

She was still smiling as she made her way to James’ private office in the heart of the DMLE. Sirius had been a closed book when she had probed for answers, and she knew James would be more forthcoming.

“Honestly, James, what happened yesterday?” Hermione lowered her voice as she glanced over her shoulder for eavesdroppers. “I thought you were only supposed to be in the Department of Time for an hour, maybe two. What could possibly take all day and into the night?”

James exhaled deeply, lines of exhaustion etched into his face. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“What did he tell you?”

“I believe his words were ‘Fucking bureaucrats’.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, as he leaned back in his seat, the metal springs squeaking with the movement. “Sounds like Sirius. Well, after you left, they brought him in to take his statement of events.”

“...Okay?” Her face scrunched in confusion while she pulled up a nearby chair to join him at his desk, resting her forearms on the polished wood as she leaned in closer. “I don’t understand. Isn’t his statement of events that he was pissed, dropped a jar of dirt, and woke up in the future?”

“It should have been.”

Realisation dawned on her. “Oh god, what did he say?”

“Which statement do you want?” James asked dryly, his eyes flicking to the ceiling as he shook his head. “There were many. First, he told them he was involved in a rain dance that went horribly wrong—”

“Oh god,” Hermione repeated, the sound muffled as she covered her face with her hands.

“—Then he said he snorted fairy dust off a centaur’s arse during a full moon, licked a purple wall, and quote ‘your guess is as good as mine’ unquote.”

Her hands fell into her lap and she felt herself shrinking as he continued, caught in a limbo between pure horror and amusement.

“Oh, my personal favourite—he made love with a grandfather clock and upon a mind-shattering orgasm at the strike of midnight, he awoke twenty years in the future. Then he proceeded to describe the clock in _great detail_ and forever denounced his proclivity for grandfathers.”

“ _He actually said that?_ ” Hermione could only imagine the expressions that must have passed over the Unspeakables in the room.

“Oh yeah. It was all fun and games until the bell-end quipped about stealing a Time-Turner to go back and prevent the Hobgoblins from releasing their song ‘Enchanting You’, which according to him is ‘only for wankers’.”

Hermione would have laughed if she was not so consumed with secondhand mortification. The song _was_ pretty terrible, the chorus could get stuck in her head for days.

_You’re more enchanting than a Veela on the eve of presenting, more enchanting than a siren in the sea tormenting, more enchanting than all and I am unrelenting in my love._

Ron used to play the air drums after the horrendous rhyming, which somehow made it even worse.

James looked as if he had aged just from that single meeting as he added, “His Time-Turner bit was the reason that he was in the Department for fifteen hours under lockdown. It took half a dozen Aurors to scan him and interrogate him on the alleged stolen property before they believed he was taking the piss out of them.”

“How did it take that long for them to believe _you_?! You’re the head of the DMLE.”

“Glad you asked, Hermione,” James replied sardonically. “Immediately after he finished saying he stole a Time-Turner, I explained to them that he was not serious. To which he said—”

“—Of course I’m Sirius.” Her head dropped into her hands, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Of course he did.”

* * *

_Knock_

Hermione’s eyes opened to a pitch black room.

_Knock-knock_

Throwing the warm blanket off and exposing herself to the cold night air, Hermione stomped over to the door, unable to hold back a scowl.

_Knock_ —She violently swung open her door, looking up to meet the impish gaze of Sirius Black. “Yes?”

“I’ve got whisky.” Sirius grinned widely, holding up a full bottle of the amber liquid, tilting it towards her.

“Congratulations,” she snarled as she pushed the door shut, annoyed that he woke her up for something so miniscule. She had been in the middle of a lovely dream where she rescued a unicorn from peddlers who were trying to sell its blood and hair and she was promoted on sight to Minister for saving a protected breed. Not the most realistic dream, but still one she would’ve enjoyed finishing.

A beat passed.

_Knock-knock_

Against her better judgement, Hermione found herself opening the door again.

“Don’t make a bloke drink alone,” he pleaded, pushing his bottom lip out and pairing it with those puppy eyes that made her melt. “I just lost my entire twenties and everything I’ve ever known by being thrown through time. As if that wasn’t tragic enough, now my flatmate won’t even have a drink with me.”

Leaning against the doorframe, her eyes narrowed skeptically as she contemplated his words. “I know what you’re doing.”

He took her hand in his, raising it up to his lips and pressing them to her palm. Her stomach flipped, as the memory of his lips was seared into her hand. Batting his eyes at her in an altogether too innocent fashion, he whispered, “I’m so lonely.”

“Fine. _One drink.”_ She raised one finger to cement her point, pulling her other hand from his lingering grasp. “I do have to work tomorrow, so I can’t stay up late. Let me put on some bottoms and I’ll join you.”

Sirius’s lips curled as his eyes drifted down her body, taking in her oversized shirt that barely covered her arse, he opened his mouth and—

“—No.”

“But I didn’t even—”

“I know what you were going to say.” She challenged him to disagree with a set of firmly raised brows as she pressed her hands against the wood, closing the door on him. “Fully clothed. One glass.”

She heard the smirk through the door as he replied, “Marauder’s honour.”


	5. Firewhisky, Truth, and Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you to everyone following the story! I've loved reading your comments and ideas for how the story will progress. Here is my favorite chapter so far, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> All the love to my fantastic Alphabet, LumosLyra and PotionChemist, and pre-readers/baby alphas LauraArmada and BreathofThePhoenix for all of your help and encouragement! I'd be lost without you ❤️

“Sirius Black,” Hermione began, her eyes focusing and blurring while she swayed in place, grateful to be sitting on the sofa. “Did you cast an infinite refilling charm on my glass? I could’ve”—she hiccuped, covering her mouth with her hand—“sworn I had this amount of whisky left an hour ago and there is approximately”—she lifted the glass up to her eyes, her head leaning forward to press against the cold glass—“a half left.”

“I think you’re imagining it, little witch.” He shrugged with practiced nonchalance, and reached over, his finger pushing down on the edge of the glass until Hermione was holding it at a normal height again. “It’s your turn.”

Tipping her head side to side, Hermione hummed along to a lazy song playing in her mind, her curls brushing against Sirius’ shoulder. “Okay, I love flying, I like potatoes, and once I used a Time-Turner to save a Hippogriff from certain death.”

He made a sputtering sound with his lips as he shook his head. “That was terrible, you’re _terrible_ at this game. First off, everyone loves potatoes so that’s obviously one of your truths.” 

Glancing down at her glass, she could’ve sworn it had more whisky in it than a moment before. “You sound so confident. Perhaps I hate potatoes,” she replied, setting her drink on the end table and turning back to him, tucking her feet under herself. 

“Did I get an O in my N.E.W.T.s for Herbology by submitting homegrown Northern Lights Cannabis?” He threw his hand out with the question, waiting for her reply.

“...No?”

“No!” His arms gesticulated wildly causing part of his drink to slosh over the edge of his glass and land on the ground with a splash. “Professor Alma confiscated my stash and absolutely got high with it in the greenhouse that night. The point is, you don’t hate potatoes, there’s a potato for _everyone_.”

Goosebumps raised on her arms with the chill of the room; even the heat of the whisky wasn’t warming her. She crossed her arms, rubbing her palms up and down for warmth, wishing she had put on something with sleeves before coming out of her room.

One by one he listed on his fingers, emphatically jabbing each finger out as he counted. “Breakfast? Hash browns. Lunch? Chips. Supper? Roasted potatoes. Dessert? Crisps. Want to get pissed? Vodka. It’s the _best vegetable._ ”

Leaning forward, she took his head in her hands, the alcohol in her system lowering her self-restraint and she began stroking his facial hair with her thumbs. She saw him swallow, his jaw tightening beneath her touch. Through her haze, she wondered what his stubble would feel like against her lips and as she started to lean forward, she reminded herself to— “Focus,” she mumbled. “You’re r-ruining the game.”

Sirius nodded and with a grave tone agreed, “The integrity of the game must be preserved. Okay, so not the potato. You’re a witch, you have to love flying. The lie is the Hippogriff.”

Her hands dropped back into her lap. “Drink up!” she declared in victory, nudging his cup upward to his lips. “I am not terrible at this game, _you_ are terrible at this game.”

His eyes widened. “No fucking way.”

“Third year.” She shrugged sloppily, shivering from the cold and brushing her arms with her hands in an attempt to stave off the draft in the room. “Had a Time-Turner, took extra classes, saved a Hippogriff.”

Without a word, he shrugged off his black pullover and slipped it around her shoulders. 

“Sirius, you don’t have to—I can go get my own jumper from my room.” She started to argue and pull off the sweatshirt, but he tugged it firmly back onto her shoulders, his hand resting on her arm for an extra beat before it dropped.

“I was too warm anyway. Besides, it looks better on you than it ever looked on me.” 

A heat thrummed in her veins at his words, warming her body more than the jumper could have. She gave him a grateful smile, pulling it tighter around her and resisting the urge to stick her nose in the soft fabric and inhale. 

Just as her intoxicated brain was debating the action, Sirius pulled her from her thoughts by exclaiming, “Two steps back—they just _let you borrow a Time-Turner_?!”

“They _encouraged_ it.” 

With a disappointed shake of his head, he shut his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “That fucking school.”

Nodding, she sunk back into the couch with his pullover snuggled around her. She fingered the soft material, wishing she had an entire blanket made of the fabric.

“Wait!” He jolted forward, as if having a sudden revelation. “You don’t like potatoes?! Who doesn’t like potatoes!”

“It’s the flying,” she corrected, tilting her head back and looking down at him. “I don’t like flying. Never have. Never will.”

Sirius’ mouth dropped open. “ _You don’t like flying_?”

“I don’t like flying,” she confirmed, tugging at her curls and twisting a lock around her finger. “Broom lessons in school were a nightmare.”

“I’m going to take you out on my bike,” he announced with all the confidence of an infallible twenty-one year old smartarse. “You just haven’t met the right flying mecha”—He rolled the syllables in his mouth, his tongue twisting around—“mechanism yet.”

Hermione pushed his drink to his lips, tapping him once on his nose. “You forgot the part where you drink for being wrong, little wizard.”

He visibly recoiled, his eyes widened as his mouth dropped open. “What did you call me?!”

“If I’m your little witch, then you’re my little wizard,” she informed him, raising her cup in a salute and causing the liquid to tilt in the glass.

The vein under his right eye twitched.

As she nursed her whisky, the corners of her lips quirked up. “Problem?”

“I can assure you,” he growled, his voice lowered to a deep baritone, “ _nothing_ about me is little.”

The firewhisky became liquid heat that pooled in her stomach. 

“I—no. No, absolutely not. I cannot.” He set down his drink and pressed a hand to each side of his head. “You need to pick a new nickname.”

“If I do, then you do too,” she teased, wrinkling her nose at him. “I’m sure my lovely personality will inspire a new nickname, my little wizard.”

“Gods, just stop, I won’t do it anymore.”

She grinned. “Your turn.”

He tapped his chin. “I walked in on Lucinda Talkalot riding a broom in an abandoned classroom.”

“You can’t ride a broom in an enclosed space like that.” 

With a pointed look, he wiggled his brows. “Not _that_ kind of riding.”

Her hand flew to her chest in shock, grasping at the fabric of Sirius’ pullover. “I am in _dire_ need of some pearls to clutch right now.”

“You seem like a gold kind of girl.” He tilted his head as he watched her for a moment, as if lost in thought. 

Dangling her wrist in front of him, showing off a simple gold bracelet with a few delicate charms dangling from the links she replied, “Lucky guess, it’s the only jewelry I wear. My mum gave this to me before I left for Hogwarts. You didn’t finish your round.”

A smirk crept up his face. “Evan Rosier spread a rumour that my cock is sentient, and McGonagall once gave me detention for giving the Bloody Baron a ghost-wedgie.” 

“The game is two truths and a lie, not three lies.” She shook her head in disapproval. “Those are all _Riddikulus_.” She scrunched her nose up and paused. “No—wait—that’s not right.”

“I cross my heart, two of those are true.” He motioned over his heart and picked up his glass, taking a long drink.

Digging her teeth into her lower lip, she fought back a smile. “ _Fine_. I’ll humour you. The ghost-wedgie.”

“Incorrect, little witch, that absolutely happened. Fifth year, it took months of trial and error followed by weeks of scrubbing cauldrons for McGonagall.”

“What in the world would inspire you to do something like that?”

Stopping with his glass mid-way up to his lips, he winked. “It was a bet with Prongs. I won a favour to be fulfilled at any time, no limitations.” 

“All that for a favour?” she frowned. “It doesn’t sound worth it—those cauldrons are rancid.”

“ _Any_ favour. No limitations.” He iterated slowly, drawing emphasis to the words. “I’ve been high on the power of opportunity for years.” 

“What did you use it for?” She tucked Sirius’ pullover tighter around her as she shrunk into the cushions and rested her head on the arm of the sofa behind her as she swung her feet up and dropped them in Sirius’ lap. 

“Nothing yet, I’ve been holding on to it for the perfect moment.” She felt his hand rest on her calves and the familiarity of the action filled her chest with warmth.

Somewhere in the back of her hazy mind, she wondered when they had become so comfortable with each other, like they had done this a hundred times before. It had only taken them a few weeks to reach the level of familiarity that had taken years to build with Harry—only this felt different, more intimate.

As she lay back, she stared up at the ceiling, wondering briefly if the small crack in the upper corner had always been there. “Which is?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll know it when I know it.” His hand had begun to drift along her calves, his fingers drawing slow circles into her skin.

“How eloquent. So, what’s the lie?”

“The sentient cock,” he grinned wickedly. “It wasn’t Rosier. It was me. I started the rumour.”

Groaning, she tossed her head back further and clenched her eyes shut. “Do call Remus, I believe my eyes are about to roll out of my head and he’s the only one I trust to put them back in correctly.”

He scoffed, his hands stilled on her legs. “You’re going to ask the only Marauder without eyeball insertion experience to help you?”

Hermione sat up abruptly and settled her feet firmly on the floor as she doubled over, clutching her head. “Oh. Moving was a bad idea. You Marauders are all the same. I’m amazed you haven’t pulled a James and announced your title as you enter a room. He had a scepter at one point but Lily made him get rid of it.”

“Oh, I have titles, too,” he asserted with a slight puff of his chest. “I have the _best_ titles. The longer the name, the more important, that’s the rule. My name is _incredibly long._ Almost as long as my—”

“Sirius!”

“What? I was going to say my spot in line to the English throne.”

She dropped her hands and stared expectantly, the room rotating as she tried to focus her gaze on him. “If you have so many titles, which one is the best?”

“I’m Lord Black,” he put on that false pompous-sounding voice as he lifted his glass in the air, the ice clinking on the side of the cup. “Obtaining the title Lord was quite difficult and a major accomplishment. In order to receive it, I had to be born to elitist wankers.”

“Blah.”

“You can’t _blah_ my titles,” he huffed, looking rather amused. His hand had shifted with her as she sat up and was currently resting on her upper thigh. He glanced down at his hand then moved it back to his lap. “What titles do you have?

Her body twisted to face him as she threw her arms out in front of her. “Queen of the Hippogriffs, saviour of Hippogriff kind. You know, they aren’t particularly good at art on account of the claws but I’m _confident_ that a statue is in the works.”

Leaning back over to the end table, she picked up her glass which felt fuller than when she had put it down. She balanced the glass between both hands and took another drink, swiping a hand across her chin when a bit of whisky missed her mouth.

Swishing a hand around, he mumbled, “I don’t...why—why did you have to save it again?”

“This tosser”—” She gesticulated and her drink splashed out of the glass, landing on the rug but she didn’t seem to care—“insulted the hippogriff in class and his disgustingly rich father tried to get it scheduled for execution.”

“That fucker.”

She nodded solemnly before her eyes lit up in recognition. “I bet you know his father! I think James told me he married your cousin. Do you remember Luscious Malfoy?”

He blinked at her.

“Lucius,” she corrected herself, brow furrowing. “Lucius Malfoy.”

"Ludicrous, perhaps,” he scoffed, looking personally offended. “Certainly not _Luscious_...though now that I think about it, Remus did have an odd fascination with his hair.”

Playfully nudging him, she tutted softly, “You know what I meant! I’m too drunk to English properly.”

“To answer your question, yes, I remember the twat, He was the _worst_ ,” Sirius groaned, leaning his head back.

“Still is.”

“And now there is a second Lucius in the world? Gods. How did you deal with seven years of his son?”

“I had my ways. The key was to handle him in a way that the professors wouldn’t notice and that he would be too embarrassed to complain about.” She gave a small shrug, wandlessly conjuring a flock of starlings with a soft smile as one perched on her shoulder and the rest flew silently through the room. 

Arching a brow, he looked distinctly unimpressed. “Is the Malfoy boy scared of birds?”

“No.”

“Then that’s a ridiculous defense; they’re like you, they’re just _cute little birds._ ”

With a quick whistle, one by one the starlings nosedived toward Sirius, streaking through the room with deadly accuracy. He dropped his glass with a thud and covered his face with his hands. The birds pecked at any sliver of available skin, digging their beaks into his hands and arms.

Losing his balance, he tipped backwards from his upright position on the sofa as he swatted at the air around him. “I take it back! I concede! Bloody witch and your battalion of attack birds.”

She snapped her fingers and the starlings disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. Sirius sat up, brushing himself off and resting his hands on his knees as he scowled at Hermione. “Was that really necessary? You made me spill my drink, and that’s a punishable offense in many societies. In Ireland, they could flog you for that.”

“What is the punishment in England? A spanking?” she quipped, eyes dancing with mirth and her filter completely gone at this point.

“The way I do it, you’d never see it as a punishment, little witch.” The corner of his lip curled into a smirk, his wry drawl triggering heat to pool in her abdomen. 

She told herself the flush on her cheeks was from the alcohol. 

“The birds were strategic,” she continued, shifting the conversation back to their previous discussion, in a bid to break the growing tension. “I had my retaliation and Malfoy couldn’t even complain about it without the merciless mocking from the student body that he was scared of ‘cute little birds’.”

Grinning, he scanned her face. “Hermione Granger, I think I see what James and Remus are always on about with you.”

“Sirius,” she mumbled, enunciation becoming more difficult by the minute.

“Yes?”

“I think I’m pissed.”

He chuckled dryly. “I think we reached pissed an hour ago.”

“Why do you like to drink?” As her head rested against the back of the sofa, her eyes closed and she tried to will the room to stay in place. “This is the worst.”

“Prongs told me you met my mother’s portrait. Do you honestly need to ask why I drink?”

“I can’t imagine having her as a mum.” Hermione opened her eyes to meet his gaze, tears misted her vision, taking her by surprise. “I love my mum more than _anything_ and you never had that.”

“Oh no.” Sirius’ eyes spread open in panic, his back straightening as he inspected her. “You’re an emotional drunk, aren’t you?”

“No,” she sniffled, her lip quivering of its own accord. “It just makes me _sad_!” She choked back a sob, pulling his sweatshirt up against her face. “You never had a real mum who loved you and supported you. You’re so nice and you should’ve had a mum who took care of you.”

Her shoulders shook and her breath trembled. Sirius watched her helplessly, looking overwhelmed and flustered at her sudden show of emotion. Setting her drink down, she reached out for Sirius, whose jaw slackened in shock.

“Hermione—it’s—you don’t—” 

Slipping her hands around his broad shoulders, she pulled him up against her. “I’m sorry, Sirius.” The words were whispered hoarsely against his neck. “You’re so sweet. You deserve to be loved.” 

He tensed for a moment before his whole body relaxed into her embrace, molding himself against her. Goosebumps formed on her arms as his fingertips caught gently on her waist, dragging slowly across her ribcage until she felt his arms lace behind her. Tilting his head ever so slightly, Sirius pressed his cheek against hers and tucked his nose into her curls. 

Before she could stop herself, she inhaled, her eyes fluttering shut. Heat pulsed off his skin and she had to force herself not to nuzzle against him in her haze. She inhaled again, relishing in the scent—a mixture of leather, spice, and sandalwood. It was the same scent on his pullover but amplified as it filled her lungs.

Hermione nearly moaned.

As they embraced, she lost track of time, not caring about the seconds or minutes that slipped by. When he pulled back, her arms were still looped around his neck, unwilling to let him go. Their bodies were wrapped tightly together, her chest brushing against his with every expansion of her lungs. Hermione’s eyes met his and they darkened under her gaze, making heat flood her abdomen.

If he tried, she would let him kiss her.

It had been too long since Cormac and she was far too drunk to make rational decisions right now.

For a moment, she thought he could hear the sound of her heart hammering against her ribs as she watched him. Her lips parted but the words died on her tongue. She felt his hands drift down her arms before finally settling on her waist, his grip firm yet gentle. His fingers squeezed her skin and he closed his eyes with a slightly pained expression.

Sirius moved first, snapping out of his thoughts and standing up, breaking the trance between them. 

“I think it’s time for water to sober up. Do you want water? I want water. We should really get water.” He turned quickly and disappeared into the kitchen.

Hermione pushed the backs of her hands against her flaming cheeks, nodding in agreement. 

It was definitely time for water.

* * *

“Do we have any food?” Hermione asked, her body splayed out on the floor of the living room. “I would look for myself, but the room is spinning.”

Sirius lay on the floor several feet from her, looking around the room. “You have a container of Bertie Bott’s Beans on the end table,” he informed her, reaching a hand towards the table and swatting the air in an attempt to reach it.

“Those are Harry’s. I haven’t tried those in ages.”

“Well, it’s the only food available within arm’s reach. I’m far too drunk to magic right now.”

“Hand over the sweets,” she demanded, extending her arm towards him. Her stomach gave another low grumble. “Maybe they won’t be so bad.”

Sitting up with great effort, he snagged the box and placed it on the floor, giving it a gentle shove. The box bumped into Hermione’s head.

Still laying on her back, she fumbled open the box and poured a handful into her open mouth.

After several moments of chewing, Hermione’s face contorted into disgust, and she sat straight up. “Oh my god, that tastes like Grindylow arse!”

Sirius fought back a laugh, a flash of pride swept over his face when she used his phrase.

Clamping her hand over her mouth, her eyes widened in terror. “Shite,” she jumped up and sprinted into the loo at record speed, leaving a chuckling Sirius next to the now empty bottle of whisky.

* * *

“Good morning, Starling,” Sirius’ voice was soft but still made her head pound.

Hermione was face down on her bed, still wearing the clothes from the night before, including his pullover. Her wild curls splayed around her head and the sheets tangled between her legs. She smacked her lips with a grimace at the horrendous taste coating her tongue.

He nudged her shoulder gently. “Have a good sleep?” 

She groaned in response and the ringing in her ears increased.

“It’s time to get out of bed. You’re usually up for work by now.” 

Hermione rolled over and sat up in one movement, instantly regretting it as nausea overtook her. She threw her hand over her mouth, hoping not to have a recurrence of the night before.

Sirius was standing next to her bed holding a vial of Sober-Up Potion and a glass of water. She reached for the vial, downing it in one gulp.

“Ugh,” she shuddered, gratefully accepting the glass of water next. 

By the time she had chugged the water, she felt significantly more alert and her nausea began to dissipate.

“Better?”

Hermione nodded, shoving the blanket away and dropping her head into her hands. “I don’t think I’ve had so much to drink in my entire life,” she mumbled, wishing she had a breath mint.

“Well, to be fair, Starling, you’re terrible at _Two Truths and a Lie_.”

She frowned, looking up at him with her brow creased. “Why are you calling me—oh no.”

He grinned. “Oh yes. You did tell me you would inspire a new nickname and you did; I have the peck marks to prove it. You are just like your army of little birds, beautiful and brilliant but fiery when provoked.”

Despite her best intentions, she felt her lower lip protrude as she narrowed her eyes at him.

Sirius tapped her gently on the nose. “Be glad I’m not calling you ‘Queen of the Hippogriffs, Savior of Hippogriff kind’. The title was much too long. I saw a whole new Hermione last night.”

“Last night.” Flashes of the night before passed through her mind, each memory overlaid with a blurry film. “What time is it?” She grappled around for her wand, desperate to cast a _Tempus_ in her moment of panic. “Am I late for work?” 

“I woke you up with plenty of time,” he assured her, his eyes flicking to the clock. “You are ten minutes ahead of schedule.”

Feeling lightheaded from the rush of adrenaline, Hermione collapsed back on the bed and sighed. “You’re a bad influence, Sirius Black.”

“Oh, Starling, If I took a shot of whisky for every time I heard that, my liver would collapse in on itself.”


	6. Advances in Chip and Telly Technology

Despite the unconventional night and wicked hangover, Hermione managed to make it to the Ministry on time and through the rest of her workday with some semblance of normalcy. The Sober-Up potion helped with the aftereffects of her night with Sirius, but she still felt off kilter the entire day. One thing was for sure, she would not be drinking with him again.

She could count on one hand the number of times she had been intoxicated prior to last night. The last time that she had enough alcohol to make her sick was her last night at Hogwarts. Her fellow Gryffindors had encouraged her to forgo her Head Girl responsibilities for their final evening as students and celebrate. The drinks that kept finding their way into her hands tasted harmless but packed a punch, leaving her with a wicked headache and sour stomach the next morning.

Drinking with Sirius was the most fun that she could remember having in years. He had a way of making her feel carefree, and she had been enjoying his company too much to notice her constantly refilling glass.

Before she even had her morning cup of coffee, the paper wings of a flying memo fluttered onto her desk to summon her to level nine, the Department of Time—a subsection of the Department of Mysteries. 

“Please state your full name and occupation for the record.”

Clearing her throat, she spread her fingers across her thighs nervously, wishing they had picked any day but today for this meeting. She would kill for a glass of water but the glowering Unspeakable in front of her didn’t appear to be the accommodating type. “My name is Hermione Jean Granger. I am an analyst and occasional field agent in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

“And how are you involved in the subject's appearance into the present?”

“I live in the flat that Sirius Black disappeared from twenty years ago. A few weeks ago, I heard a noise in my spare room and found him lying on the floor,” she explained, recounting the facts.

“The floor?”

Hermione coughed uncomfortably, grimacing. “Yes, he was rather intoxicated at the time.”

“Hm.”

The quick-quotes quill scribbled back and forth across the parchment next to Hermione and she resisted the urge to peek at the words that filled the page.

She continued, feeling self-conscious of the quill’s notation, “I gave him a Sober-Up Potion and brought him directly to James Potter’s house. It seemed the best course of action as he appeared just after midnight when the Ministry was closed. I thought James would be helpful considering he is both head of the DMLE and knew Sirius at the time of his disappearance.”

“Did you do anything to summon the subject? Anything out of the ordinary?” 

“No, I did nothing out of the ordinary that night. I’m not sure what caused the time jump. Sirius had very little information when he was sober. He said he dropped a jar of dirt that his old flatmate, Remus Lupin, stored in their living room and woke up in my spare room two decades later.”

“And what is your relationship to the subject?”

She blinked and a hundred thoughts passed through her mind. “My...relationship?” 

“Yes.”

“I knew of him from James Potter, but that night was the first time we met. We are flatmates, there is no... _ relationship _ .” Her throat felt like sandpaper as she tried to swallow.

The Unspeakable peered through her spectacles at Hermione, looking distinctly unimpressed. “Thank you. That will be all, Ms. Granger.”

She gave a quick nod and shuffled out of the room.

The rest of her day at work was relatively uneventful; she had far too many meetings and managed to avoid the loud-talking Karen from the next department. Over lunch, she practically dove behind a group of interns passing by when she caught a glimpse of James. 

It felt irrational at best, but she was absolutely convinced that he would be able to tell that she was hungover from a night with Sirius. There was no way she would ever recover from the shame if James found out she had been pissed and all too willing to snog his best mate not ten hours earlier. Perhaps it was his Auror skills, or even just his father’s intuition, but either way she was not willing to test the theory.

After what felt like three days but was really a standard nine hours, Hermione’s day at work was finished. As she stood in the queue for the Floo, she found herself nervous to go back to the flat. It came to her in flashes, though she still remembered most of the night before—moments of hysterical laughter and relentless banter, stories from their pasts.

She stilled.

They way she splayed across the sofa and threw her legs over him, how he returned the motion with ease as if they had been there a hundred times before. The embrace, the intimate way his hands danced across the skin of her waist and back. Her arms around his neck and the way his eyes changed when he looked at her.

Hermione felt her cheeks heat at the recollection.

Her last real memory was stumbling out of the loo after she’d brushed her teeth and splashed water on her face, joining Sirius in the living room again. She remembered him sitting next to her on the floor, their backs pressed against the sofa, her head tipped and laying on his shoulder as he loosely rested his arm around her waist.

She couldn’t recall falling asleep, but she had definitely passed out in the living room considering how difficult it had been to walk and how fatigued she had felt. Sirius must’ve either levitated her back to her room or carried her in his arms. Knowing how complicated it was to perform magic when drunk, she assumed it was the latter. The thought triggered a series of butterflies in her stomach, thinking that perhaps he had a soft side after all.

With a burst of green light, Hermione stepped through the Floo and into the living room of the flat, but it took her a moment to register the scene before her. Sirius was laying upside down on the sofa, his legs over the back end and his head dangling towards the floor.

“Hermione, you’re home!” he exclaimed in delight, throwing his arms out. He looked so ridiculous that she snorted. “I. Am. So. Bored.” He turned right-side up, slapping his hands on his knees as he stood. “ _ Why _ does everyone have to work?”

Shaking her head in amusement, she kicked off her shoes and laid her cloak over the nearby stand, placing her briefcase down.

“There’s this thing that people pay in order to live,” she began, making her way into the kitchen and snagging an apple from the table. “You may have heard of it. It’s called a bill.”

His brows knitted together as she took a bite, joining him on the sofa.

“And to pay the bill, you need money,” she added slowly, raising her brow and tilting her head as she watched him. “Can you guess where the money comes from?”

“Well, I hate it,” he grumbled.

“Get used to it,” she shrugged, biting into the apple with a crunch. “Even if you have a dragon's hoard of galleons, the rest of us work either for necessity or personal fulfillment.”

“Personal fulfillment?”

She paused with the apple just at her lips. “Yes, some people love what they do. Isn’t there anything that brings you joy to do? A hobby? A talent?”

He perked up. “I do love my bike.”

“Your magical flying motorcycle doesn’t count,” she rejected with a dismissive wave. “You can’t make a career out of loving your bike.”

“No,” he corrected, looking like an idea came to him. “I could build bikes. As far as I know, I was the first to make a Muggle motorbike fly. I built mine from scratch, actually. It would seem that no one has made progress in twenty years. There’s a reason you haven’t seen other flying motorcycles around London.”

She realised in that moment that he was correct; the only one she had ever heard of was the one stored away in James’ car park—the prototype that Sirius had created.

“That’s brilliant!” An encouraging grin spread across her lips as she swallowed her bite of apple. “Do you want to open your own shop? Design and build magical flying motorbikes?”

He looked apprehensive before nodding. “If I would be happy doing anything, it would be that. I just had never considered having a career before. Before I left, we were in our twenties and everyone was floundering about. Now Prongs and Moony have careers, wives, kids. It’s...jarring to be the only one still floundering.”

Hermione gave him a soft smile, vanishing the core of her apple. “Sirius, there’s no reason to compare yourself to them. They’ve had twenty years to get to where they are right now and you still have twenty in front of you before you’re there. You’re still only twenty-one. We are in our prime floundering years.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re floundering.”

“I feel like I’m floundering most days,” she replied, worrying her lip between her teeth. “I’ve always had a plan, still do, but sometimes life is...unexpected. I mean, my best mate met his future wife at eleven, and there was always this expectation that I would end up with...” She cut herself off and made a face. “I’m oversharing. My point is that even the people who look like they have it together can sometimes be falling apart inside.”

“My best mate—don’t tell Moony—also met his wife at eleven,” he sympathized, adjusting himself on the sofa to face her. “The Potters are notoriously committed at a young age. I don’t want to know who I would’ve married if I had to pick them at eleven.” He shuddered at the thought.

Hermione’s face contorted into horror. “Oh god, even at thirteen, my dream man was Gilderoy Lockhart.”

Sputtering out a laugh, Sirius stared at her. “You’re kidding me, right? He was a complete and utter wanker. I used to catch that git copying work from everyone else and then lying that it was his.”

“You two went to Hogwarts together?!”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately. He was a few years below us and considered himself a ladies’ man,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “The prat stole my date to Hogsmeade during sixth year. He’s lucky I had three backup dates otherwise I would have been quite cross.”

“If it makes you feel any better, there was a huge scandal in the news a few years back with him.” She scrunched her nose in disgust, recalling the headlines. “He had an affair with a local herbologist and stole her work on a new breed of plant that’s used in the Dragon Pox vaccine before obliviating her. The only reason he was caught was because her husband found her notes and put two and two together. There was a trial and everything. He’s a complete social disgrace and in the lower security level of Azkaban.” 

With a satisfied smirk, he nodded. “That does help. I can’t imagine what you saw in him.”

“I was  _ thirteen. _ Who did you fancy at thirteen?”

He turned dramatically, looking off into the distance. “Her name was Minnie. She was enchanting—our love was forbidden. No matter what I tried, she never gave me the time of day.”

Her stomach swooped at his words; she didn’t like the way he was talking about this witch. “James never mentioned a Minnie,” Hermione said offhandedly, as if she were not itching to ask more.

She silently chided herself. Why did she care about who he fancied at thirteen?

“Minnie was my nickname for her, her full name is Minerva.”

“Minerva…the only witch I’ve heard of—wait— _ McGonagall?! _ ” She choked on the air she was breathing, stuck between laughter and horror.

Grinning, he turned back towards Hermione. “So you’ve heard of her, the one that got away.”

“I can’t believe you. I bet she loved your flattery.”

Giving a modest shrug, he wiggled his brows. “She never did accept any of my marriage proposals. I’ll have to owl her, see what she’s up to.”

“Good luck,” Hermione tossed him a skeptical look. “She and Filch have been married for a decade.” 

His mouth dropped open as he gaped at her.

She gasped for air, bursting into hysterical laughter. “Oh my god! The look on your face!” she cackled, doubling over. “They haven’t but can you just imagine?”

“I didn’t believe it anyway,” he mumbled. “No way she would’ve turned down my proposals and accepted his.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s already married to his cat.” Sirius’ eyes widened and she nodded before explaining, “He calls her  _ Mrs.  _ Norris.”

Sirius cocked his head to the side. “How progressive of them. She kept her own last name.”

Blinking, Hermione looked around in confusion as if she were missing something. “ _ That  _ is the part you think is progressive?”

“I don’t know! It’s the future—”

“—the present.”

“—how am I supposed to know what’s abnormal?”

“Surely it hasn’t changed  _ that  _ much. How about I show you the neighborhood tonight? You can tell me all about ‘the good old days’,” she said in an old lady voice, trembling it in a teasing fashion. 

He nudged her with his shoulder, looking equal parts offended and amused. “Excuse you, young lady. You have to learn to respect your elders.”

“Well,  _ elder,” _ she emphasized with a grin. “Have you had supper? We can get those chips you were talking about last night.”

“I’m starved! I would kill for some fish and chips,” he groaned dramatically, tossing his head back. “I doubt that any of my favourite shops exist anymore. Is there anywhere you’d recommend?”

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “I may have somewhere in mind. You’re dressed perfectly to blend in since you’re already wearing Muggle clothes.”

Looking down at himself, he asked, “Do we need to take the Floo?”

“Nope.” She hopped off the couch and extended her hand, helping him up. “The place I have in mind is within walking distance. Come along, old man!”

* * *

“I may not be your typical pureblood aristocrat,” Sirius declared over Hermione’s loud scoff of disbelief. “But I am still not eating out of a van in a car park.”

“It’s called a  _ food truck _ and I’ll have you know that they have the best fish and chips in all of London.”

He made a face as he stopped in place. “I don’t trust food that was prepared in the boot of a van.”

“Funny,” she replied deadpan, pausing to face him with her arms crossed. “I didn’t take you for a food snob. Must be the Walburga in you.”

Sirius growled and stomped up to the side of the van where a blond middle-aged man was holding a notepad.

“Welcome to Terrance’s Eats! What can I get for the lovely couple?” The man lifted the pen to the pad, jerking his chin towards the menu which was printed behind him.

“Two fish and chips, please,” Sirius stated through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at Hermione who looked all too pleased with herself.

“Coming right up! That’ll be 12 quid.” He looked expectantly at Sirius who stilled like a deer in the headlights, as if suddenly realising he had no Muggle currency.

Hermione stepped around him and passed money to the worker, hiding her smug smile.

“I’ll pay you back,” Sirius insisted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ve become recently aware of something called a bill. It’s rather disconcerting if I’m being honest.”

She snorted, accepting her change from the worker and tucking it back in her pocket. “Don’t worry about it, it’s my treat. I am making you eat food from a van in a car park.” 

The food was placed on the edge of the van counter and a loud bell rang out to signal their food was ready. Hermione picked up the meals, which were served in traditional newspaper wrapping, and a small container of ketchup. She handed one to Sirius with an encouraging nod. “Try it.”

Ripping open the paper, he peered inside, eyeing the dish skeptically. He selected a single chip, giving it a quick sniff before popping it in his mouth and chewing for several seconds.

“Merlin’s hairy bollocks, that’s good!” he uttered, looking captivated as he took a bite of fish. “Starling, I’m starting to see how you earned your title as Brightest Witch of your Age.”

A laugh bubbled up as she bit off part of a chip. “I thought you’d change your tune after trying it. Much has changed since your day. Don’t worry, I will teach you, young Padawan.”

Sirius stopped mid-chew to give her a look.

“We’ll get there.” She patted him on the shoulder in a condescending manner. When he turned to glare, she stole a chip from his hand and stuck her tongue out at his look of displeasure. “Better yet, let’s make a quick stop around the corner before we go back home.” She hooked her arm through his, leading him in the opposite direction of the flat. 

They continued to eat as they followed the paved path through the neighborhood. “Hermione,” Sirius prompted, looking pensive as he finished up his last bite of fish. “What’s the name of the body of water at Hogwarts?”

Dipping her chip into her side of ketchup, she paused, looking concerned. “Did you hit your head when you landed in my library?”

“Just...answer the question, it’s been twenty years and I’m curious.”

“Are you really asking me the name of The Black Lake?”

He grinned wildly, shaking his head. “Fucking hell, it stuck.”

“But in Hogwarts: A History they call it The Great Lake…” Her eyes narrowed as she put the pieces together. “Wait a minute. The  _ Black  _ Lake.”

Sirius winked.

She gasped scandalously, having all but forgotten about her food now. “You didn’t.”

“Don’t be upset just because I thought of it first. Though The Granger Lake doesn’t have as nice of a ring to it.” He shrugged as if to say it was out of his hands.

“You are incorrigible!” Hermione laughed, attracting the attention of a few passerbys.

“I might’ve paid off some seventh years to lie to the first years during orientation. Moony said it would never stick and now he owes me fifteen Galleons!” He rested his index finger on his chin. “I should charge for inflation.”

Gesturing with her free hand at the neon sign in front of her, she stated, “We’re here! Now, I’m assuming you’ve never seen one of these before.” 

He dusted his hands off, tossing his paper wrapping in the rubbish bin outside the entrance. “Absolutely not, and tell me, what is...” He peered, reading the neon lettering. “Blockbuster?”

She beamed as she opened the door for him and gestured for him to enter first. “They sell films, you know, after it’s done showing at the cinema.”

“I’ve never been to a real cinema,” he groused faintly. “But if it’s half as good as those chips, I’m up for the adventure.”

Hermione had to physically push Sirius past the rows of films in order to make any progress towards the action section. He was easily distracted by titles and displays, pausing every few steps to pick up a new film.

He stopped mid-step and she bumped into him from behind. “Sirius!”

“This one has a black dog on it. I have to see it. It calls to me.” His hand drifted towards the stand and she swatted at it lightly.

Looping her arm through his, she pulled him along through another aisle. “Another time, we are on a mission today, pun intended.”

“What film are we here for? Lily showed me one with singing goblins and green witches.”

She lowered her voice as a family passed by, the youngest was begging the mother for candy. “Was it called  _ The Wizard of Oz _ ?”

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her with his free hand. “That was it! I didn’t mind it. The wizard was a real dickhead though.”

“I have something else in mind. Do you trust me?”

His arm tightened around her hand and his eyes flicked to meet hers. “Yes.”

They navigated back to a tall stand filled with identical films. “Here we are!” Hermione selected a single box from the stand and handed it to Sirius.

“Let’s go home, Starling! I’m ready for you to blow me away with the future.”

“The present,” she amended.

As they made their way back to the flat, Sirius marveled, “I can’t believe how many new buildings have been developed since I left. There were so few options twenty years ago. There certainly wasn’t a Buster there!”

“Still not called a Buster.”

“Just trust me, it’s going to catch on. You’re witnessing the birth of a movement.”

* * *

“I don’t understand, where is the rest of it?” Sirius asked, walking around to the back of the telly.

“That’s the whole thing.” Hermione laughed, unfolding the nearby blanket and spreading it over her lap. “Were you expecting more?”

He plopped down next to her on the sofa, joining her under the blanket. “It just doesn’t look right. Lily had one of these at her parents’ house, but it was massive.”

“It’s been twenty years,” she reminded him, trying to ignore the way his leg brushed against hers under the blanket and forget about the embrace they shared the last time they sat here together. “They’ve made advances in both chip and telly technology.”

“Well, keep it up and I just might like the future.”

“The present,” Hermione corrected. “It’s the present now.”

“I’m curious to see which film you selected.” He inspected the film cover, flipping it over to the back. “You looked rather pleased inside the Buster.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that no one calls it the Buster.”

“That is factually incorrect, as I just did.”

She scrunched her nose, the way he smiled made her blood rush in her ears. “It’s called James Bond, I think you’ll like it. It’s an action film. I figure we can start with something that I think you will like and just move through the pop culture you have missed over the last two decades.”

“This is the only form of education I approve of,” he teased, settling lower in his seat, his body radiating a low heat. 

Hermione tucked in closer to him on instinct before picking up the remote and pressing the power button. “If you want, next weekend we can watch my favourite film together.”

“I’ll have to clear my overflowing social calendar, but for you, I’ll always make the time.”


	7. A Golden Starling

Hermione’s twenty-second birthday snuck up on her, taking her by surprise. Since her life had been upended by Sirius’ return to the flat, she found herself trying to regain her balance and define a new normal. Over time, the pair fell into a bit of a routine, and she found that she loved having a flatmate to spend her nights and weekends with. 

All the stories and photographs in the world hadn’t been enough to prepare her for the intoxicating reality that was Sirius Black.

Her birthday morning had been quiet—a quick breakfast before work followed by Sirius encouraging her to skive off and spend the day with him. Though the idea had been tempting, Hermione had far too much to do in the department and couldn’t afford to take the day off, lest she miss several important deadlines. She had, however, taken an extended lunch to meet up with her parents at her favourite sushi restaurant down the street from the Ministry. 

When she arrived home at the end of her day, she was overwhelmed to step into a living room full of people as the room filled with cheers upon her entrance.

“Starling!” Sirius jogged over to her with a grin. “Welcome to your birthday party!” 

Her friends from Hogwarts and work filled their small, two-bedroom flat, holding drinks or snacks and chatting amongst themselves. She wasn’t sure how Sirius even had the resources to contact everyone unless he had help from the Potters. 

“How did you do this?” she asked in wonder, scanning the room and taking it all in. 

“What kind of flatmate would I be if I didn’t throw you a proper party?”

The sound of ceramic breaking came from the corner of the room and Sirius’ eyes widened. “I’m on it, don’t move a muscle!” He moved towards the noise, pulling out his wand to repair whatever had been broken.

“Hermione!” Andrea Allan, one of her friends from work, pulled her into a hug. “Oh, happy birthday! It was so hard not to say anything to you all day since it was supposed to be a surprise.” 

“Thank you!” Hermione returned the hug with a smile. “Colour me surprised! How did you beat me back from the office?”

“A few of us made the sacrifice of leaving early to get here on time,” Andrea raised her drink in a quick salute. She lowered her voice and leaned in closer. “Also, who is mister tall, dark, and handsome who is throwing this party for you and why have you never brought him up before?”

“Oh.” Hermione’s voice felt small. “He’s just my flatmate.”

“ _Just_ your flatmate?” Andrea asked, sipping through the straw in her cocktail with raised brows. “Is he seeing anyone?”

Hermione swallowed thickly. “I don’t think he’s looking for a relationship right now.” 

It wasn’t a lie, as far as she knew.

Though Hermione had no real way of knowing, Andrea seemed like Sirius’ type. She had long legs, a small waist, bright blue eyes, and shiny black hair that fell perfectly straight down her back. In their two years of working together, Hermione had never seen her disheveled, not a wrinkle in her clothing, a chip in her manicured nails, or a smudge in her makeup. 

Just standing next to her made Hermione feel frumpy.

“That’s alright, I only need him for a night.” Andrea winked, and her eyes rested on Sirius for a beat too long before shifting back to Hermione. “And maybe the next morning, depending on how it goes.”

The knot in Hermione’s stomach grew. She glanced over at Sirius, who was now talking with Neville Longbottom. His eyes snapped up to hers and he ducked his chin, giving her a roguish grin.

“Sure,” she mumbled, searching for a way to leave the conversation before she said something she would regret. “I’m starved, I think I’ll go get some food. Enjoy the party.” 

Hermione entered the kitchen, trying to ignore the way that Andrea was staring at Sirius. The table had been extended and now spanned the wall, covered in an assortment of alcohol bottles and platters of food. 

Snagging a plate, she began to fill it with a variety of tarts and cakes. From the range of treats available, she was surprised, and also rather impressed that Sirius had managed the spread on his own, though it did make her wonder if he had help from James and Remus. 

She popped a tart in her mouth and chewed, looking at the clusters of people talking around the room.

“...in nappies!” Sirius exclaimed to Neville.

Neville laughed, “I’m certainly not in nappies any longer. How did you know my parents?”

“Oh, I have many fond memories with Frank and Alice. Did your mum ever mention the time Kettleburn caught her starkers running across the Quidditch pitch after curfew in year five?”

Neville’s eyes shot open wide, his mid-swallow shock causing him to sputter and cough. “Mum did _what_?!”

Sirius laughed. “She lost a bet with Bertram Aubrey after the big Slytherin vs Gryffindor game, had to clean up the firecrab cage for a month in order to keep it off her record.”

“Mum would never do that,” Neville declared, shaking his head. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it or not, it happened and has gone down in legend. How else would I know that she has a purple birthmark on her left arse cheek in the shape of Jupiter?”

Neville’s mouth dropped open.

Fighting back a laugh, Hermione selected a second raspberry tart from the spread and caught Sirius’ eye. He tossed her a wink before turning his attention back to Neville.

“Mione!” 

Hermione suppressed the urge to flinch; only one person called her that. In the past year, she had only seen Ron a handful of times and each encounter had been painfully awkward. Setting her half eaten plate down on the table, she braced herself for this conversation.

“Ron!” She plastered on a smile and turned to greet the lanky redhead who was making his way towards her and carrying a poorly wrapped present with a massive purple bow on it in his hands.

She hated purple.

With a lopsided grin, Ron leaned in for a hug and Hermione shifted to the right a step, giving him a side hug instead of a full embrace. He didn’t seem to notice the slight. “Happy birthday, ‘Mione.”

“I didn’t know you were in the city,” Hermione began, feeling her nerves build in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t need another row with him on her birthday. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“I wasn’t,” he replied, scratching at his neck in a nervous tic. “I still have a few months left in Belgium but I caught a Portkey back to London late last night and I’m going back in the morning. I knew I couldn’t miss your birthday.”

 _Again,_ she added silently, recalling how he had stormed out before her birthday last year and didn’t return an owl for months.

Standing far too close to her, Ron thrust the lumpy package into her hands. “For you.”

She politely smiled as she pulled at the bow and tore off the polka-dot wrapping, revealing a pair of brass lion bookends. “Thank you, Ronald, they’re lovely.” She brushed her thumb over the carved lion teeth, exposed mid-roar.

“They’re for your books,” he added with an encouraging nod.

“They’ll fit well with my bookcase. Thank you for the thoughtful gift.” She placed them on the end table, straightening them just so before turning back to Ron.

A pause lingered between them as they stared at each other.

Hermione folded her arms in front of her, tucking into herself as she tried desperately to think of something to say to break the silence. “How has work been going? Harry had mentioned that your—”

Just then, a figure slipped into the space next to her and offered her a glass of wine. “Sorry for the interruption,” Sirius said, sounding completely unapologetic as she took the glass from him, “But the birthday girl was out of her favourite and as host of this party, I had to remedy such a ghastly oversight.”

Letting out a low sigh of relief, she gave Sirius a grateful smile, lifting the glass to her lips. 

“Sirius Black.” Sirius thrust his hand out to Ron, who was looking rather disgruntled at his sudden appearance. 

“Ron Weasley. Harry told me you came back,” Ron grumbled under his breath, shaking Sirius’ hand just a little too hard and a moment too long. 

“Ah, Ron Wealsey, the third in the trio I’ve heard so much about.” Sirius’ eyes flicked over to Hermione who was currently taking another large gulp of the fairy wine. “Always nice to meet my flatmate’s mates.” Sirius’ hand moved to rest on the small of her back, his fingertips brushing gently against her. 

Her heart stuttered.

Ron’s jaw set as he glared at Sirius, the tips of his ears growing more red by the second. “Harry hadn’t mentioned you were living together,” he said, his tone accusatory as his eyes scanned the flat. 

“Yep.” Hermione’s voice felt unnaturally high as she took another sip, the wine in the glass already running dangerously low. “He moved in about a month ago.”

“So nice of you to come celebrate her birthday with us.” Sirius tapped his fingers lightly on his tumbler, causing a bead of condensation dripped down the glass.

“With you,” Ron repeated, his eyes tightened at the words.

“Oh! Before I forget, Starling!” Sirius walked over to the kitchen table, set his drink down, and returned with a blue paper bag stuffed with decorative paper. “Your birthday gift.”

She felt the pressure of their gazes on her as she placed her wine glass and the bag on the end table and began to pull out the crinkled paper to find a hard object sitting at the bottom. Retrieving it from the bag, she turned the heavy statue in her hand, reading the engraving at the bottom. 

_Hermione Granger, Queen of the Hippogriffs, Saviour of Hippogriff Kind_

The statue was a likeness of Hermione, wearing a crown with a Time-Turner around her neck. 

Without thinking, she squealed and threw her arms around Sirius. “Oh my god, you didn’t!” She laughed, feeling his arms loop around her waist and squeeze, lifting her in the air and spinning around before setting her back down. 

Sirius held her by the waist as he drew back, his eyes alight with amusement. “I know you’re still waiting on your life-sized statue—which is absolutely still in the works—I just figured I could make this in the meantime. You never know how long the real one will take on account—”

“—of the claws,” she finished, grinning wildly. “It’s absolutely perfect!”

It took a beat for Hermione to remember that Ron was still standing next to them. 

A burst of green flashed in her peripheral as the Floo roared to life and James and Lily stepped through, a gift in James’ hands. 

The moment Sirius saw James appear, he immediately released her, dropping his arms, taking a quick step back, and shoving a hand in his pocket.

Ron’s entire neck and ears were now flushed red. He gritted out, “You know, Mione, it looks like you’re busy with your _guests_. I’m coming back in a few weeks to see the family. Let’s catch up then?”

Nodding numbly, she watched Ron storm into the Floo without saying goodbye to anyone else while Sirius crossed the room to greet James, leaving Hermione standing there, holding the statue and feeling more confused than ever.

A few hours into the party, after the presents had been opened, cake had been served, and half of the alcohol was gone, Hermione finally took a seat on Not-Bertha and watched the remaining guests mingle around her.

Ginny plopped down on the sofa next to her, holding a glass of white fairy wine. “You look far too tired for the hour. Are you twenty-two or a hundred and twenty-two?”

Hermione shifted, crossing her legs and sighing. “You saw your brother here tonight, didn’t you?”

Eyes closing, Ginny leaned her head back for a moment with a groan. “Circe, what did he say this time?”

“He didn’t _say_ anything, but he looked upset.”

“He’s always upset when you’re not pining after him.” Ginny shook her head. “I can’t believe he came tonight.”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Hermione nodded. “It’s just been so odd, I’m not used to everything with him feeling so uncomfortable.”

“Well, don’t let it ruin your night. He’ll get over it soon and everything will be back to normal.”

“You said that last year.”

Ginny’s eyes caught on something across the room and her head tilted with a perplexed expression. “Hermione,” she began with a frown, “I know I’m no expert on Muggle technology, but I’d like to think I understand it well enough to be confused right now.”

“What are you on about?” Hermione turned her head in the direction of Ginny’s attention. 

“Why is there a toaster on your telly?”

Eyes widening, Hermione began to shake her head, lowering her voice. “I’ve learned it’s best not to acknowledge it. It’s a whole thing—just ignore him.”

“Ignore who—”

“—It’s the logical place for a toaster!” Sirius called from across the room, his hand cupped around his mouth. When Hermione made eye contact with him, he grinned and wiggled his brows.

She stuck her tongue out at him before turning back to Ginny with her hand flipped up, palm to the ceiling. “See what I have to deal with?”

Raising her brows, Ginny looked from Sirius to Hermione with a knowing smile. “What you have to ‘deal with’, sure.”

Hermione’s nose scrunched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m simply agreeing with you,” Ginny said with a shrug, taking an extra long sip of her wine.

“It doesn’t feel like you’re agreeing with me.”

“Oh, _I am_. Poor Hermione Granger. She has to live with a fit and handsome bachelor who buys her thoughtful gifts, flirts with her, and hides her toaster just to make her smile.” Ginny’s voice grew lower and more dramatic as she continued, throwing her head back with her hand across her chest. “I’m on the edge of my seat. However will she survive?”

“It’s not to make me smile,” Hermione argued. “He’s being a stubborn prick about a simple disagreement regarding toaster placement.”

Ginny’s lip curled up and she nodded. “Of course he is.”

“And he doesn’t flirt with me,” she added.

Stopping with her glass partway to her lips, Ginny stared at her from over the rim of the glass. “Okay, I might’ve believed you before, but now you’re in extreme and utter denial of logic and reason.”

“Sounds familiar,” Sirius quipped, slipping in the space next to Hermione. “Extreme and utter denial was the silent second half of the Black family motto. Always Pure and in Extreme and Utter Denial of Logic and Reason.”

The look in Ginny’s eyes as she glanced between Hermione and Sirius had Hermione feeling flustered. 

Even if he _was_ flirting—which he wasn’t—Sirius flirted with everyone.

“It was lovely to see you, Sirius.” Ginny smiled, standing up from the sofa. “For the sake of the party, I should probably go find my fiancé before he has any more of that rum and starts retelling the time he beat Malfoy to the Snitch in year six in the rain.”

As Ginny walked away, Hermione turned to face Sirius, feeling pleasantly buzzed.

“How have you liked the party?” Hermione asked, leaning her elbow onto the couch and resting her head on the palm of her hand.

“It’s been fun.” Sirius adjusted to face her and she could’ve sworn he was closer than he had been a moment ago. “Are you having a good time?”

“I have—”

Just then, a cluster of Hogwarts friends who were leaving called for her attention, pulling her away from Sirius. 

“Your admirers await.” Sirius gave a wave of his hand paired with a half bow.

“I’ll be back,” she promised. “Just one more minute.”

* * *

As the flame in the Floo from her last departing guest faded, Hermione slipped through the open window and up the fire escape to the roof where Sirius was currently sitting, holding a bottle of wine.

“Everyone’s gone?” he asked, his legs dangling off the edge of the roof, swinging gently.

“Yep,” she answered, holding her hands out to her sides as she found her balance. “Just you and me now.”

After a few precarious steps, she sat next to him on the roof, ignoring the drop in front of her.

“I thought you were scared of heights,” he mused, offering her the mostly full bottle.

She took a swig and grinned. “Would you believe me if I said you bring out the recklessness in me?” Pausing, she glanced down at the bottle. “Or you’ve gotten me drunk again.”

“Wouldn’t be a good birthday if I hadn’t.” He winked.

Picking at the label of the bottle with her fingernail, she smiled mischievously. “My favourite drink is single malt whisky, I was gifted seven book related objects tonight, and this was the most exciting birthday I’ve had in ages.”

The look on his face, a mixture of pride and excitement, caused her stomach to do a funny sort of flip.

“Not even a challenge with that one. Obviously the lie is the malt whisky,” he replied, throwing his arm around her waist comfortably, his hand resting just above her hip. “I know you love that unpronounceable brand of fairy wine with the little purple goblin on the label.”

She would never admit it out loud, but she loved it when he touched her like that, with a sort of casual ease that made her feel—

“So are we going to talk about what happened with Ron Weasley tonight?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she dismissed, placing the bottle in the space between them. Tucking her knees against her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knee. “You must’ve imagined it.”

Sirius gave a noncommittal hum and picked up the bottle with his free hand, taking a drink. “I’ve seen that look before, Hermione. It was the ‘step away from my witch’ type of look.”

“I’m not his witch,” she sniffed, recalling the dozens of arguments they’d had on that very matter.

“Does he know that?”

“Yes.”

“Then—”

“—It’s...complicated.”

Sirius’ hand tightened a fraction on her hip and his shoulders tensed. “Complicated,” he echoed, staring out into the empty car park below.

Her stomach dropped with guilt; she had hurt someone she cared about. 

“We grew up together,” she explained, her voice as soft as the breeze that blew past them. “There was always this...sort of unspoken expectation between the families that the two of us would end up together. You know, Harry and Ginny and then Ron and me.”

In the distance, Hermione’s owl, Hazel, began her descent to the open window, her large wings flapping through the air. Sirius remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

“We tried—I mean, _I really tried_ to make it work but it was never right. It was like my heart and mind could never agree when it came to him. My mind wanted to make it work but…”

“It never felt right, like you didn’t fit together. Maybe for the moment, but not for forever.” Sirius’ light eyes searched hers.

She nodded. “We tried on and off for nearly a year after Hogwarts. I don’t think he believes me when I say we are done for good.” She sighed, subconsciously leaning into Sirius’ touch. “I think he thought that he could just go around and do whatever he wanted and that I would always be there waiting for him at the end of the day.”

He clicked his tongue and tensed his jaw. “The bloke is blind. I could see from across the room how uncomfortable you were with him. He got you Gryffindor bookends, for Merlin’s sake.”

She laughed, “That was pretty terrible, wasn’t it?”

“I’ve only known you a month and I know you better than that.”

“Has it really only been a month?” she asked, trying to remember what it was like to live in the flat before Sirius had returned. The memories felt incomplete.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Those were dark days, I know, but now I’m here with you and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” The question slipped out before she could stop herself.

His throat dipped and his fingertips dragged along her hip as he nodded. “Promise.”

“What did the Ministry say? Are they working on a way to send you back?” she asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

“No.” He let out a humourless chuckle, taking another long drink of wine. “They said they don’t know how it’ll impact the timeline, don’t want to take any chances and whatnot. ‘What if you disrupt the flow of time and create the next Grindelwald?’” he mocked. “I would create someone much better than Grindelwald, for the record. He was a dark wizard and didn’t even have a catchphrase, it’s a wonder anyone took him seriously.”

“What did Remus say about the jar of dirt that caused it all? Did the Ministry interview him too?”

Sirius shrugged, his hand mindlessly brushing along the fabric of her dress. She tried not to shiver, imagining his hand slipping down a few more inches to the hemline. 

“They did, but I don’t think they found anything useful from it. Not sure if Moony ever mentioned it to you, but he went on a bit of a self-journey after Hogwarts to visit the ruins in Egypt. That’s where he got the dirt in the first place. I thought it was a ridiculous souvenir—I would’ve brought back a mummified cat personally—but it seemed to mean something important to him so I didn’t argue when he put it in the living room.”

Frowning, she wondered why Remus had never mentioned that trip before.

“It’s shitty, not that I expected the Unspeakables to provide me with a way to go back to my own time in the first place. I know better than to rely on the Ministry for anything,” Sirius scoffed, as if the mere idea was ludicrous. 

When she thought about him leaving, she felt an unexpected rush of panic. Her pulse raced beneath her skin and her stomach churned. Shifting her legs, she let them hang over the edge of the roof with Sirius’. “Would you go back if they let you?”

He stilled next to her, hesitating before nodding. “I would. That was my entire life. I missed out on _everything._ I missed Harry’s first steps, Remus getting married, James’ graduation from the Auror program, pissing on my mother’s grave”—he paused thoughtfully, cocking his head—”I suppose I could still do that one but it’s just not the same when the dirt isn’t freshly-laid.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here,” she said softly. Reaching down, she placed her hand over his.

His eyes snapped up to hers and time seemed to slow around them. 

She held her breath, waiting for something.

Sirius lifted her hand and brought it up to his line of sight, his lips quirking into a smile as he inspected her gold charm bracelet. 

“Perfect,” he murmured.

“What?” she asked, feeling breathless.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small box. “I found this the other day and it was too serendipitous not to purchase.”

“You’ve already given me a gift,” she argued, not pulling her hand away. “I really can’t—it’s too much.”

He snapped open the box and retrieved an intricately carved charm, a small bird she instantly recognized as a starling. “I absolutely insist, it was made for you.”

Gently turning her hand, his thumb brushed across her pulse point and she hoped he didn’t notice the trail of goosebumps forming up her arm from the motion. He clipped the charm next to the small heart with HG engraved in it.

“I love it,” she whispered.

“Happy birthday, Starling.” 

Their eyes met, his hand still holding hers. He let out a low breath, leaning forward and closing the distance between them.

Her stomach filled with the flutter of butterfly wings.

His lips pressed against the top of her head, dropping a quick kiss before he pulled away from her completely.

She tried to ignore the flood of disappointment that overtook her, compounded by her discomfort from her earlier conversation with Andrea. Insecurity ate at her, causing her to wonder why she ever thought he would notice her when witches like Andrea were vying for his attention.

“Ready for bed? I think it’s far past your bedtime.” As he helped her to a standing position, he smiled.

“ _My_ bedtime? I’m pretty sure most men your age have been in bed for hours,” she teased, accepting his hand and smoothing down her rumpled skirt.

“My reputation precedes me,” he quipped as they descended the staircase and climbed back into the flat. “I can indeed spend hours in bed, I’m a _very_ generous lover.”

Taking the bottle from his hand, she set it down on the kitchen table as he tugged off his jacket and hung it up for the night. 

“See you in the morning, birthday girl.” Sirius turned down the hall and disappeared into his bedroom.

Her gaze caught on a scrap of paper that sat on the floor next to his jacket; it seemed to have fallen out as he hung it up. She snagged it and her eyes narrowed at the words; it was from Andrea, her name and number written in a loopy scrawl.

Before she could regain her senses, she glanced over her shoulder and crumpled the parchment, tossing it into the fireplace and watching with a strange satisfaction as Andrea’s name burned away.


	8. Date Nights and Chocolate

Hermione awoke one Saturday morning to a message from Sirius on the kitchen table.

**_Up to wholesome shenanigans with Moony and Prongs — don’t worry, I’ll be back before our date tonight._ **

**_XOXO_ **

**_Sirius_ **

_ Date. _

Her eyes lingered on the word for just a moment too long.

Despite knowing Sirius was just being his flirtatious self, that single word stuck in her head that entire morning.

Without Sirius at home in their flat, her weekend felt oddly empty. He had slowly become an integral part of her daily routine, their time filled with everything from random explorations around Muggle London to sharing a cuppa and talking about their day. 

After sitting around the flat for an hour in utter boredom, she sent Hazel to Ginny with a letter inviting her to lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. 

* * *

“I haven’t seen you without Sirius by your side in weeks,” Ginny mused as she ripped off a piece of bread and dipped it in her soup. “Where is your snarky other half today?”

Scoffing, Hermione tossed her a look. “He’s not my other half.”

“Does he know that?”

Hermione took a long drink from her Butterbeer and wiped the froth away from her lips with the back of her hand. “He’s only my flatmate. I don’t know where this is coming from; you never called Cormac my other half.”

“Because Cormac was a wanker and we all hated him. The way you are with Sirius is completely different, like night and day.”

“I’m not  _ with _ Sirius,” she corrected, setting down her drink with a heavy thud. “You’ve really got to stop saying that.”

Shrugging, Ginny gave a sly smirk. “Whatever you say. So, where is your snarky not-other-half today?”

Hermione picked up her knife and sliced her sandwich into quarters before dropping her serviette into her lap. “He’s with Remus and James. He didn’t mention what they were doing, just said that he was going to see them.”

“You didn’t ask?” 

“He left a note. I slept in today.” 

“Oh my gods,” Ginny snorted before dabbing at her lips with her serviette. “That’s the most married thing ever. He left you a note because he knew you’d wonder where he went and he didn’t want you to worry. You know who  _ doesn’t _ do that sort of thing?”

Mentally debating if she even wanted to entertain this conversation, Hermione gritted out, “Who?”

“People who are just flatmates.” Ginny looked entirely too smug. “He also flirts with you  _ relentlessly _ .”

“He flirts like that with everyone.”

“Of course he does, that’s why you always see him flirting with me, or Tonks, or Lily—oh wait, you don’t.”

Shrugging off her implication, Hermione reasoned, “That’s only because you’re all off limits from being with his best mates and godson.”

“Don’t tell me you’re saying this because you’re considering getting back together with my brother. I saw him watching you at your party like a lost puppy.”

With a grimace, she tossed her serviette at Ginny, nearly knocking over her drink in the process. “You take that back. I already told you that the last time was the last time.”

“I know,” Ginny said as Hermione’s hands dropped to her lap and she picked at her nails out of habit. “I just want to make sure. As much as I would love for you to be my sister-in-law, you’re already my sister without the marriage. And if you absolutely insist on being my legal sister as well, you can marry Charlie, but I have a feeling Sirius would object to that.” 

Hermione frowned. “You’re reading too much into nothing. Sirius said he sees what James and Remus see in me.” She nibbled at her sandwich, feeling her appetite dissipate with each bite. 

“So?”

“So, they see me as a daughter, ergo he sees me like that.”

Rolling her eyes, Ginny ripped another piece of bread from her roll and dipped it in the soup. “Please, I was at your party. I saw the way he looked at you. I’m amazed he didn’t kiss you.”

“I mean...there was this moment, when we were on the roof just after the party and I thought he might but he didn’t,” she admitted.

“I knew it!”

“I said  _ thought _ ,” she emphasized, remembering the way Sirius had looked at her before kissing her on the head. “He didn’t, and you’ve heard the same stories that I have about him. You think Sirius Black is the shy type? If he wanted to kiss me, he would’ve.”

Brows raising, Ginny shook her head as she carefully spread butter on the remnants of her bread with her knife. “If he thinks of you like a daughter, I’ll eat my broom.”

“Fiber is good for your digestive health.” 

“You’re impossible.”

Hermione finished the last sip of her Butterbeer and the glass magically refilled itself. “And you’re about to have a really rough Saturday night after eating your Nimbus but I’m sure they make a potion for that. How’s work going?”

“Very smooth, Hermione.” Ginny made a face, tracing her finger down the condensation which had formed on her glass of Gillywater. “Too bad I know you hate Qudditch and couldn’t care less about how the season is going.”

“I don’t  _ hate  _ Quidditch,” she amended, recalling the dozens of hours she spent sitting in the stands at Hogwarts even when the weather was horrid. “What’s important to my friends is important to me. Plus, I went to every one of your games in school!”

“I know this is a guise to avoid talking about your obvious attraction to your flatmate but I don’t think I care at the moment.”

Hermione smirked.

“It’s been an amazing year so far, we are third in the league and if we win the next two games we could be in the trials for the World Cup!”

“Gin! That’s amazing!” she exclaimed, latching on to the change of subject with fervor as she settled back into her seat. “Who do you play next?”

* * *

Following her late lunch with Ginny, Hermione took the public Floo back to the flat. Once she stepped through the fireplace, she dropped her handbag in surprise at the sight in front of her. 

“What… what are you doing?” Her mouth struggled to form each choppy syllable as it left her mouth.

“Draw me like one of your French girls,” Sirius replied with a smirk. He was laying out on their sofa, his head propped up suggestively by the heel of his hand,  _ thankfully _ clothed in his usual trousers and shirt.

Laughter bubbled up in her chest. “Oh my god, I just  _ knew  _ you were going to take away all the wrong parts of the film. Don’t be a prat. You know it’s my favourite.” She picked up a nearby pillow and tossed it at his head. “How long have you been waiting here just to say that line?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it but my legs are numb if that’s any indication.” He quickly deflected the pillow with a raised arm. “It could be worse—or better. I could’ve fully committed and been utterly starkers, Kate Winslet style.”

Hermione’s mind drifted, the image of him completely nude in the drawing room of the suite on the doomed steamer appearing behind her eyelids. She turned towards the hallway to hide the growing flush on her cheeks, squeezing her eyes shut, and willing the image to leave her mind.

Ever since the night of their drinking game,  _ the night that shall not be named,  _ she felt like her body and mind betrayed her when it came to Sirius. The memory tortured her. She thought of his arms encasing her, his calloused fingers claiming her waist and ribs, his hard chest pressing against hers with each breath.

This feeling would pass. It would definitely pass. It would  _ have  _ to pass or she was going to lose her mind.

“James would’ve castrated you for that.”

Sirius winced at the visual. “I know, probably better than what Remus would do to me.”

_ And what I would do to you, _ she added mentally, unable to stop herself.

He looked her over, as if noticing her for the first time, and eyes caught on her bare thighs, exposed by the shorter hemline of her dress. During the week, she usually wore longer dresses or trousers to work but she’d broken out an older favourite for her lunch.

Sitting up to face her, he asked, “Where did you come from?” 

“Well,” she began with a teasing smirk, “When two people  _ really _ love each other and they want to show it, they—”

He waved her off, sounding oddly serious. “I know that bit, you snarky witch. Where did you Floo in from?”

She frowned, wondering about his sudden change in mood. “I went to lunch with Ginny, why?”

Making a noncommittal sound under his breath, he leaned back in his seat. “Just curious. I was out with Remus and James.”

“I know.” A smile tugged at her lips. “I saw the note.”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

As she thought back to Ginny’s words, her chest filled with a warm sensation. “Thanks, Sirius.”

His eyes flicked down, but back up before she saw where they had landed. “Are you going to change before our film?”

“Yes, and before you complain, you can wait another two minutes. You’ll survive.”

“You’ve been gone forever,” he practically whined. “I counted every second.”

Grinning, she left him sulking on the sofa. 

Hermione entered her room and shimmied out of her dress, snagging a set of pyjamas from the bottom drawer and making a mental note to do laundry later.

“Hey, Starling?”

A beat of silence passed as she tugged on her bottoms.

“Heeeeeerrrrmioooooonnneeee,” his voice sang from down the hall.

Slipping on the camisole, she tried to ignore his pestering. Sirius was like a spoiled child, demanding attention.

Throwing open her door, she stomped out and exclaimed, “What?!”

He stilled.

“Yes?” she asked again, growing increasingly annoyed.

Grumbling something under his breath, his jaw tensed. “That’s not much better.”

Wondering what he meant, Hermione looked down at herself. She had slipped on a pair of silk shorts and a camisole, wanting to be comfortable.

“What were you calling my name for?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

It looked like he was biting the inside of his cheek and he sighed before responding. “I wanted to see if you felt like making hot chocolate with the film tonight. It’s been ages since I’ve had a cup.”

“Wow,” she said in sarcastic awe as she joined him on the sofa. “I can’t believe you couldn’t wait until I was finished dressing to ask about hot chocolate. The anticipation was thrilling.”

He tossed the pillow at her, and she promptly caught it, tucking it behind her back with a satisfied smirk.

“Lucky for you, we have all the supplies we need to make hot chocolate.”

Sirius peeked out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t understand. Don’t we just need chocolate...and the temperature of hotness?”

“You’ve never made hot chocolate before?”

“We had an incompetent arsehole house-elf for that.” He shrugged. “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if Kreacher ruined mine on purpose. I only ever had good hot chocolate at Hogwarts.”

Hermione scowled, “Be nice to Kreacher.”

“Fine. We had a semi-competent arsehole house-elf for that.”

She narrowed her eyes until they were barely slits. “Be. Nice.” 

“That’s as far as I’m going to go with that,” he informed her without a hint of remorse. “And that  _ was _ me being nice. I could have said much worse.”

“Well, now  _ you  _ can be the semi-competent arsehole making the cocoa, no magic required.”

Sirius’ shaggy hair fell over his eyes and he brushed it away before muttering, “Hope you like burnt hot chocolate.”

“If you burn it, then it’ll taste just like autumn nights with my mum. Lucky for you, I have inherited my dad’s hot chocolate making abilities. You’ll see, it’s just like potions.” She tilted her head to the kitchen. “You ready?”

Slapping his knees, he stood up and followed her into the kitchen. “I was born ready.” He paused before correcting, “Okay, that’s not true. I was basically a sentient potato just after birth, but I’m ready now!”

“You’re still a sentient potato,” she grinned, opening and closing nearby cupboards as she searched for ingredients.

“Good thing you like potatoes.”

She paused on her tiptoes, her hand on the container of cocoa powder on the third shelf. “I thought we agreed not to talk about that night.”

“You agreed,” he corrected smugly. “I did no such thing.”

“Oh?” Raising her brows skeptically, Hermione set the container down and turned, leaning against the countertop. “So you won’t have any problem if I tell everyone at Sunday brunch tomorrow about your secret school crush on McGonagall?”

A devilish grin crossed his lips. “Who said it was a secret?”

As she thought of Sirius proclaiming his love for Professor McGonagall through the echoing corridors of Hogwarts, she rolled her eyes. “Why do I have a feeling you were extremely vocal about this?”

“I’m the reason why she never married.” He let out a heavy sigh, a pitying look on his face. “I knew she would never be able to find another man like me, poor woman.”

She snorted, imagining an exasperated McGonagall being trailed by a young Sirius through the school. “I don’t believe you. It sounds ridiculous.”

“What can I say? I have a thing for women with authority.” Lowering his voice, he continued, “Not sure I could’ve handled you wearing that Head Girl badge of yours, Starling.”

Reflexively, Hermione’s thighs squeezed together at the rumbled sound of his voice. She had just dressed, but at this rate, she would need new knickers by the end of the night.

Laughing off his comment, she retrieved various jars from the cupboards and set them on the counter. “You’re saying that I can bring it up and you wouldn’t care in the slightest?”

“Did James get sloshed in fifth year, steal a random cat, think it was McGonagall, and sob on the dormitory floor begging the stray cat not to expel him?”

Hermione blinked in surprise, cocking her head slightly. “Is that a yes?”

His lips pulled to the side in a half-grin. “My brain is still waiting to be filled with the inner workings of hot chocolate.”

“Get the saucepan, that’s step one.”

Sirius opened the storage cabinet. Slowly reaching towards the roasting pan, he stared at her and she shook her head, prompting him to change course. His hand headed towards the handle at the back.

“That’s a wok. You don’t know what a saucepan is? How old are you?”

“Forty-one,” he quipped, snagging the sauce pan at random and placing it on the stovetop.

He lit the flame with a flick of his wand.

“Now we are going to combine cocoa powder, sugar, water, and salt.” She listed the ingredients as she measured them out into the pan.

As they stirred, the mixture began to boil.

“I’m going to add the milk,” she explained softly, handing the whisk to Sirius while she carefully poured.

His hand brushed hers as he took the whisk and continued her stirring pattern of three clockwise, one counter clockwise.

She peered into the pan, checking the progress. “Perfect! Now we remove it from the heat, add vanilla, and we have hot chocolate. No house-elves necessary.”

“You laughed at me but that was basically just deconstructed chocolate. And what was the temperature?” 

She reluctantly mumbled, “Hot.”

His eyes sparkled as he laughed.

Navigating through the kitchen, Hermione gathered the rest of the supplies. “Time for the best part. The toppings. You can put anything you like on hot chocolate.”

“Surprise me.” He waved a hand and bowed to her. “As a hot chocolate novice, I find myself woefully unprepared for this step in the process.”

“Well, we have the classics, marshmallows, whipped cream”—she ignored Sirius’ snigger—“chocolate sauce—”

“I want all the toppings,” he announced, extending his arms out and tilting his head back. “Ravage my body.”

Hermione wanted to groan; she knew he was doing this on purpose.

She began fixing his drink, carefully pouring a portion into a mug. “This is how I make mine. I do have to warn you that my dad says it’s ‘an obscene amount of toppings’.”

“What are those?” he asked, gesturing to the packets she dumped on the top of his whipped cream.

“You don’t know what these are? They’re only the most popular Muggle candy for hot chocolate,” she bluffed, trying to keep a straight face.

Sirius’ brow creased. “Of course I know what they are, I just didn’t recognise that brand. I love those. They’re my favourite. Can’t have cocoa without them.”

Hermione dipped her head to hide her grin and handed him the cup. 

He took a long drink and immediately spit it out, cleaning up the mess with a wave of his wand. “What the bloody hell is that?”

Forcing her face to remain neutral, she sipped at her cocoa. “Whatever do you mean?” As her tongue darted across her lips, sweeping the cream away, he cleared his throat. “You know what you did. The things...exploded! In my mouth!”

Finally, she allowed herself to smirk. “I thought you said ‘surprise me’? And then you said, ‘I love those, they’re my favourite.’”

“Obviously, I lied,” he griped. “What did I just put in my mouth?”

“They’re called Fizz Wiz. It’s a sweet that’s designed to pop in your mouth, kind of like a licorice snap.”

Eyes widening in recognition, he chuckled, “You naughty minx, you’re trying to prank me! Well, the joke is on you, I love it.” He began to chug the hot chocolate, wincing at the crackling sound coming from his mouth.

Hermione stifled a laugh behind her hand. “I appreciate your commitment to stubbornness but you don’t have to drink the rest. We have plenty of hot chocolate if you want a non-fizzy glass.”

“This is how I take my drink, thank you very much. The discomfort makes the chocolate that much sweeter.” Wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, he winced as a stray Fizz Wiz popped. “What film did you select for us tonight?”

“It’s another Muggle classic. It’s about a park.”

“We’re not about to watch a film about trees and plants for two hours, are we?” he groaned, tilting his head back in disappointment.

“I wasn’t finished. The park has dinosaurs.”

At that, he perked up. “Dinosaurs?”

Holding up her rented copy of Jurassic Park, she confirmed, “Dinosaurs.” Her lips twitched up playfully. “They eat people.”

He grinned. “Wicked.”

They made their way over to the sofa and took their usual seats as she turned on the telly with a click of the remote. Turning to him, her voice lowered and she said, “Before we go further, we need to talk.”

Sirius sat up quickly in place. “I promise I can change. It’s me, not you. Don’t throw away our love.”

“Sirius. Be serious.”

“I’ve never not been Sirius,” he replied with a bat of his eyelashes.

“An egregious mistake has been made and needs immediate rectification.” She informed him as she made her way back into the kitchen, the tile cool against her toes. 

He followed her into the kitchen, watching as she retrieved an empty bowl from storage and a few ingredients from the pantry. Exhaling deeply, he shook his head with faux despair. “I know what this is about, and I should tell you before you go any further that I’m not allowed to sleep with you.”

For just a moment, she froze, her wand poised over the bowl. Even with the knowledge that he was just teasing, she was surprised at how his words gnawed at her insides.

With an inelegant snort, she replied, “You wish.”  _ I wish _ , she added on silently. “I introduced you to Muggle film night and we didn’t have any popcorn! It’s a crime against humanity! Unforgivable. Despicable. I don’t know why you didn’t leave that first night.”

“I almost did.” He gave her a flirtatious wink as she tapped the bowl and the popcorn kernels expanded. “The only thing that kept me around was double-O-seven. I was seduced by his hair and smooth words.”

“Aren’t we all?”

Hermione made her way back to the sofa with a large bowl of popcorn, Sirius following close behind. She did a double take at the table. “Where is my cocoa?”

“Hmm?” He feigned confusion. “I don’t know. Must’ve disappeared under the explosion of Fizz Wiz. Also, should we talk about the insensitivity of putting exploding food in the mouth of a man who was thrown into the future by a magical explosion? I feel like I’ll be bringing this up in therapy in a decade.”

After carefully selecting a piece of popcorn, she tossed it at his head.

Sirius opened his mouth and tilted his head, catching the piece in his mouth. He threw his fists in the air in triumph. “Your offering of apology has been accepted,” he informed her as he retrieved her cup from behind the book on the end table. Accepting the bowl of popcorn in trade, he handed her the hot chocolate.

“Wasn’t an apology,” she quipped, taking a large sip and feeling the cool whipped cream stick to her lip.

Before she could lick it away, he raised his hand, gently cupping her cheek. His lips curved softly at the corners, his thumb gently brushing her top lip. “The negative to obscene amounts of toppings is apparently foam mustaches.”

Her toes curled as she suppressed the shiver that threatened to surface from his touch. “They’re all the rage in France,” she joked, swallowing the lump in her throat. “You’re behind the times, old man.”

His hand, still on her cheek, radiated heat. She was sure if she had a mirror that the blush on her neck would match the size and shape his fingertips.

Sirius grinned, apparently oblivious to his effect on her. He dropped his hand and tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Ready to watch a park full of dinosaurs?”

Matching his smile, Hermione sunk back into the sofa with a breathy sigh. “Did Harry get his arm stuck in a man-sized venus fly trap during Herbology in third year?” 


	9. Sirius' Last Wish

“Honestly, I can’t say with full certainty that a dinosaur park isn’t appealing. I could accomplish so many goals with a personal dinosaur.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose with an exasperated expression. “You just watched utter chaos and destruction from that  _ exact  _ scenario. People died,  _ violently _ . Why would you ever support a dinosaur park?” 

“I could do it better,” Sirius insisted as he filled his plate high with a full English and snagged a mug. “It was the  _ execution  _ that was flawed, not the concept. It wouldn’t even have to be a park. It could just be in an enclosure of my home, like the Malfoys and their peacocks. I’d have dinosaurs.”

“I’d like a dinosaur,” Tonks interrupted, dropping a serviette on her lap as she dipped her spoon into her parfait. Her hair was a vibrant shade of purple this morning, matching Teddy’s. “Definitely in the stegosauridae family.”

Sirius momentarily stopped stirring sugar into the coffee to look up at Tonks. “Thank you! Finally, someone in this family who understands me. Your charm and wit is wasted on Moony.”

“We are not having dinosaurs in the flat, unless you’re moving out,” Hermione announced, accepting the freshly prepared mug of coffee from Sirius with a smile.

As he took the seat next to her, he whined, “But the Malfoys—”

“I don’t care what the Malfoys have, you’re not having a free roaming field of dinosaurs.” Hermione gave him a look as she took a tentative sip of the beverage. It was sweetened with the perfect balance of milk and sugar. “Oh, this is quite lovely,” she announced, pleasantly surprised. “You remembered how I take my coffee.”

Sirius gave her a playful wink. “You’re welcome, Starling.”

“Why did you call her that?” Harry paused, looking up and taking a break from convincing Teddy to eat scrambled eggs.

“I’m both a star and a darling. He just couldn’t pick. Can you blame him?” Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. “Had to go and create an entirely new word just to encompass me, hence Starling.”

“That’s not even slightly true,” Sirius rebuked, tipping his head up in mock snobbery. “I had to fight off a group of thugs in masks in a dark alley after she was caught running an underground fighting ring of starlings. It was brutal.” He let out a heavy sigh, dropping his gaze to his lap. “So many lives lost.”

“That is in no way accurate. It’s actually an acronym,” Hermione supplied with a swing of her fork.

“Yes! Absolutely,” Sirius proclaimed, dropping his knife with a clatter. “It stands for sassy, teasing, antagonistic—”

“Sweet, talented, alluring—” She fluttered her lashes innocently. 

“—ruthless, logical, impossible”

Hermione scowled, adding to her own list, “—radiant, loveable, intelligent—”

“—naughty—”

James’ brows arched.

“—nice, genuine.”

She looked to Sirius while he was thinking of his last word.

He reluctantly finished after several beats of silence. “...girl.” 

Hermione bit back a laugh.

“Stop, it’s a lot harder than it sounds! Be glad I didn’t go with  _ ghoul _ ,” he grumbled defensively.

“Did someone spike their pumpkin juice?” Ginny asked as she picked pieces of egg out of Harry’s hair. “Because whatever it is, I want some.”

Hermione’s fork drifted over to Sirius’ plate and she speared a sausage. Sirius snagged a rasher of bacon from her plate in retaliation, giving her a cheeky wink as he took a bite and offered to feed her the rest.

Remus cleared his throat in a non-subtle manner.

“So, Padfoot, I’m leaving work early tomorrow so we can go down to Gringotts and transfer the rest of the remaining assets we inherited upon your not-death,” James announced, clumsily diverting the conversation. 

“Hm. Forgot I was rich,” Sirius mused. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d spent it after the first decade.”

James passed a bowl of blueberries to Lily. “Despite the temptation, we didn’t touch a single sickle except to fulfill your last wishes.”

Muttering under his breath, Remus added, “Can’t believe we had to go through that and you weren’t even dead.”

“Is it just me or does he sound a little too upset about the not-dead part?” Ginny snickered to Harry from behind her hand.

“I don’t like eggs,” Teddy whined to no one in particular. While Remus and Tonks were distracted, Harry slipped him a chocolate muffin.

“You don’t know what we went through,” James replied, a look of residual trauma in his eyes. “We wouldn’t have done it for anyone else.”

“And what did you do?” Ginny asked, leaning forward in suspense. “What was Sirius’ last wish?”

Remus put his head in his hands and dipped his shoulders. “We killed Walburga Black.” 

Ginny sobered and gasped, “Shite, really?”

Sirius scoffed. “Don’t be dramatic, you didn’t  _ kill  _ her.” As he took a bite of toast, he rolled his eyes. “That was, however, the unspoken yet implied second half of the request. Which you didn’t do.”

“She died less than a year later!” James flipped his hands out as if proving his point.

“Coincidence.” Sirius shrugged it off. “Just pure coincidence.”

Hermione watched the conversation, her head turning back and forth as if watching a tennis match, completely forgetting about her half-eaten plate of food. “What did you do that may or may not have allegedly caused the death of Walburga Black?”

Sirius’ lips spread into a proud grin, and he reached out to set a hand on Remus’ shoulder, who was still avoiding eye contact. “They took some family gold from my trust and paid the  _ Daily Prophet _ a hefty sum to run a front page spread on my mother.”

Her eyes shifted between the three Marauders. “Sirius, what did the paper say?”

James tilted his head, his eyes drifting up to the ceiling in recollection. “If I remember correctly, it reported tracing a large donation from her to a Muggleborn Integration Charity and the quote  _ I have lived my entire life with the secret of my ancestry buried deep in our history _ .” Sirius cackled hysterically in the background as he continued, “ _ Today, I come forth to declare that I am proudly claiming my Muggle ancestors. They were simple people, worked on a farm and built a life for themselves without magic. I strive to be more like them. _ ’ End quote.”

By the time James finished his monologue, Sirius was wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I wish I hadn’t been fake dead so I could’ve seen the look on the old hag’s face.”

“Oh, I saw it.” James shook his head, the ghost of his horror still etched into the lines of his forehead. “It was traumatizing. Do you know how many Galleons I had to pay that poor intern to deal with her? I bought him his house in full with that hush money.”

“Absolutely worth it.” With a satisfied sigh, Sirius leaned back in his seat.

“It’s on a lake,” James added.

Turning to Harry, Ginny asked, “If I fake die, will you take revenge on my enemies?” 

His eyes widened with a mixture of awe and panic. “Which enemies?”

She frowned in displeasure.

“I mean, yes,” he amended. “They will rue the day they crossed you.”

Giving Harry a loving smile and a pat on the head, Ginny replied, “Thank you, dear. I have a list prepared in my nightstand should the need arise.”

Interrupting their moment, Sirius caught Ginny’s attention. “I like you. Don’t put me on the list, please.”

“Just watch yourself and you have nothing to worry about,” she hummed under her breath, slicing into her waffle with her fork and knife. “The list is reserved for people who seriously wrong me, like Colin Creevey or that Mandrake that bit me in second year.”

“What did Colin do?”

Ginny’s eyes snapped to Harry. “Phase one has already been handled. I’ll let you know if the day comes for phase two.”

Turning to Hermione, Sirius whispered, “I like her. Can we have them over?”

Hermione pursed her lips and raised her brows thoughtfully. “Why are you asking me?” she asked before turning to face her friends. “Harry, Ginny, do you want to come to the flat to watch a film with us in a few weeks?”

“Uh, did we catch Peter practice snogging a pillow with a wig and lipstick in third year?” Sirius paused, but no one answered his question. “Of course they want to come to our film night.” Nodding to Ginny, he said, “Tell her.”

“Did you really find—”

“We are in for film night,” Ginny answered with a knowing look to Hermione. “It’s a  _ date _ .”

Remus inhaled part of his pumpkin juice and let out a wheezing gasp.

“Just a turn of phrase,” Ginny explained with a smug grin. “I promise not to make any untoward advances with Hermione at the end of the night.”

* * *

Following brunch with the Potters, Hermione lounged in the oversized armchair in her living room, her legs slung over the side and her temple tilted against the headrest with Sirius’ pullover wrapped around her. Sirius had never asked her to return it, and truthfully, she wasn’t all too interested in giving it back. It was somehow more comfortable than anything she owned, and she took to wearing it around the flat on the weekends. 

Peeking up over the top of her novel, Hermione tried not to laugh at the sight in front of her. 

Sirius was sprawled out on the floor of their living room, surrounded by sketches and crumpled parchment. As he bent over and carefully traced a line across his design, his hair fell over his eyes. She couldn’t help but watch as his lips moved almost imperceptibly while he worked. 

Silver eyes met hers and she immediately looked back to her page, embarrassed to have been caught staring. After a beat, she still felt his gaze on her and she looked back up. He had a smudge of ink brushed on the curve of his jaw. 

“How is Miss Austen on this fine Sunday afternoon?” Sirius asked, looking at the novel in her hands as he shifted to rest his back on the base of the sofa and leaned away from his work.

She gnawed on her lower lip, snagging a line from the long forgotten page in front of her. “To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.”

“Still at the start, I see,” he murmured, carefully selecting his latest sketch and handing it to her. “What do you think of this one?”

Skimming the drawing, she was impressed by his attention to detail with each component of the motorbike. “I think it’s perfect.” Her eyes caught on the engraving detail at the front, ‘S’. “But I said that about the last dozen bikes. You’re far too picky for your own good.”

He dismissed her comment. “It has to be better than perfect. I’ll know it when I see it.”

“I think you’ve been inside too long, and now you’re just searching for things to complain about.” Hermione passed the parchment back to him. “Let’s go out. I have to pick up more treats for Hazel. She’s getting chubby from all the sausages and I’m concerned that if she gains any more weight, she won’t be able to take flight.”

An offended hoot came from the windowsill. 

“We could look for open buildings for your future shop,” she added, tucking a bookmark between the pages and setting the closed book on the end table. 

His ears perked up. “Really?”

“Really really.” As she stood, she grinned and slipped his pullover over her head. After she laid it on the arm of the chair, she turned back to Sirius and noticed his eyes on her. “What?” she laughed, offering him her hand. 

He took it and hoisted himself up. “Nothing,” he replied with a grin. “Just thinking about my future shop.”

Together, they stepped over the scattered mess of drawings and into the fireplace. 

“Diagon Alley.”

The moment they appeared on the other side of the Floo, Sirius pulled Hermione around the corner into the nearest alleyway.

“Sirius, what are you—“

He hushed her and tugged her hand again, guiding her behind an old statue. She tried to focus on the details of the statue and not Sirius’ body flush against hers as they hid. The monument appeared faded from time — it was a witch with crows settled on her shoulders, her left hand broken off — and a collection of moss grew at the base.

The rise and fall of his chest against hers became more and more distracting; his head tilted forward as if checking for something. She whispered, “What are we doing?”

A group of people passed by the opening of the alley and, in lieu of a response, he tapped the beak of the crow over her right shoulder. The stone wall behind them creaked and then revealed a narrow passageway. 

“It’s our own private passage,” Sirius explained, ducking into the entrance. “These tunnels lead all around Diagon Alley to the back entrances of the shops. Best way to shop without being spotted.”

“Why would you need to shop without being spotted?” she asked, a smile pulling at her lips. 

She crawled into the passageway. After the first few feet, the ceiling raised and the tunnel was tall enough to stand in. It was made of stone and reminded Hermione of the secret passageways around Hogwarts that Harry showed her using the Marauder’s Map that Remus gave them during their third year. 

Though he was walking in front of her, she could still hear the grin in his voice as he replied, “I don’t know if you were aware, but I was a tad into mischief as a teenager.”

She snorted. “Mischief managed, right?” Sirius stopped abruptly, causing her to miss a step and run into his back. “Ow!”

“Sorry,” he apologised. “Wasn’t aware you knew about the map. Makes sense though, that they’d pass it on. Nearly got nicked by Filch our last year but Remus hid it in his trousers at the last moment.”

Hermione stuck her tongue out. “Gross. I hope they Scourgified it before giving it to Harry.”

“Did you lot carry on the legacy then?” He turned left when the tunnels split.

Knowing he couldn’t see it, she shrugged. “We got good use of it, I suppose. A few trips to Hogsmeade through the tunnels for sweets, some for adventures when we were bored. I put a stop to them when I was Head Girl, though. Harry was almost caught one year when he tried to sneak a girl who caught his fancy out to the Shrieking Shack for a snog. I gave him an earful after that one!”

Sirius stopped in front of a cellar door and turned back to Hermione with a proud grin. “That’s my godson. Did it work?”

“Are you asking if Harry and Cho snogged in the Shrieking Shack in fifth year?”

“Yes.”

With a noise between a laugh and a scoff, she said, “Yes, they did. I was quite cross with him afterwards! It was irresponsible at best.”

Wiping away a nonexistent tear, he sniffled, “I am so proud.”

“Don’t bring up Cho around Ginny or you’ll make her revenge list,” Hermione warned with a wag of her finger. “That witch will Bat-Bogey Hex you until you bleed.”

“Noted.”

Sliding the latch open, he gave a hard yank at the heavy door and held it open for her to step through. “Eeylops Owl Emporium,” he announced as if declaring a royal name to an audience. “Ladies first.”

Hermione slipped through the opening and Sirius followed quickly, closing and locking the door behind them.

She climbed the ladder out of the basement and onto the shop floor. 

“That was far too dramatic for a simple shopping trip,” she complained, dusting off her jeans with a glare. “What was wrong with the front door?”

“Nostalgia,” he replied, tracing the border of the shelving with his index finger as he continued down the aisle. “It’s been over twenty years since I’ve been in those tunnels. They missed me.”

Selecting a package of treats from the shelf in front of her, she gave Sirius a look of skepticism. 

“That and I’m not all too eager to announce my not-deadness to the world yet.”

“There it is,” she teased, turning back to the shelf and retrieving a second bag. “Do you think I should get—” As she glanced over her shoulder, she found empty space where Sirius had been standing just a moment before. Taking a basket from the front of the shop, she began filling it with supplies, wondering where he’d run off to.

Hermione made her way through the store to the opposite end, looking for Sirius. Finally, she found him standing towards the front, having just paid the clerk. On the floor next to him was a large owl cage, and in it, a beautiful snowy owl balanced on a perch.

“Sirius,” she hissed under her breath, quickly walking over to him. “Who is that?”

The owl in question ruffled its feathers, looking rather pleased. Hermione placed her basket on the floor, looking at the little owl more closely.

“McGonagowl,” he replied, sticking his finger through one of the metal spaces of the cage and gently stroking the head of the owl with his knuckle.

Audibly groaning, she covered her face with her hands. “You  _ cannot  _ name your owl McGonagowl.”

“Owlbus Dumbledore.”

“Sirius.”

“Owl Pacino.”

Hermione’s shoulders slouched as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I knew I shouldn’t have introduced you to the Godfather, I was just asking for it.”

“Don’t be a know-it-owl.” An impish grin spread across his cheeks.

She let out a playful scoff as she opened up the package of treats in her basket and offered one to the owl. “If you absolutely insist on purchasing an owl today, then I can find a better name for this beauty. Those are atrocious and I will not subject him to a life of being called  _ Owl Pacino _ .”

“However will you decide?” he asked, tossing a handful of Galleons onto the countertop, far too many for what Hermione had purchased. 

“I’ll just wing it,” Hermione quipped back. The owner’s eyes darted between the pair, watching them banter as he rang up her purchases and placed them in a bag. “You know how much I love telling you what to hoo.”

Sirius picked up the cage and they walked out into the alley. “Starling, that’s what I’m talon you!”

“I can feel my brain disintegrating with each pun.” A giggle bubbled up in her chest as her shoes clicked on the cobblestones. “On a serious note, I say he looks like an Ollie.” 

Sirius hummed noncommittally, lifting the cage and looking to his new owl to read his reaction. “What do you think about Ollie?”

The owl tilted his head at Sirius, cooing softly in approval.

“I think Ollie is the winner.” He hooked an arm around her shoulder as they walked. “Let’s hope Hazel takes to him. Just like her mum, she has a bite to her if you get on her bad side.”

“When did you get on Hazel’s bad side?” Hermione asked with a bright laugh. She held her baggie of goods in one hand and rested the other on Sirius’ waist, the same as she did with Harry when they were young.

Sirius practically pouted, and the sight made her laugh harder. “I had the audacity to eat a sausage in front of her during breakfast after you had left for work and didn’t offer her one as a sacrifice. I’ve never made that mistake again — she gets a sausage and a bow each morning.”

“It’s  _ your  _ fault she’s chubby!”

“Hey—it’s just feathers. She’s puffy with all those feathers, big boned one might say,” he quipped.

She jabbed a finger into his side in a good-natured manner. “Well, if she becomes too heavy to fly, I’m going to make you my personal owl.”

A sly smirk drifted across his face and his fingers thrummed on her shoulder. “Speaking of flying, do you remember what tonight is?”

“Oh no,” she groaned, looking down at the cage in his hands. “Ollie save me.”

Ollie replied with a sympathetic hoot.

“I’m really regretting committing to that in case you were wondering,” Hermione informed Sirius. They were now at the edge of Diagon Alley, their strides matching as they rounded a corner. “To be honest, I don’t believe my promise would stand up in court as I was not in a right state of mind to consent.”

Sirius’ eyes danced mischievously. “I know it’s your first time, little witch. I’ll be gentle.” 

The public fireplaces were in sight now, and Hermione tugged at his jacket before releasing her hold on him. “Fine. But first I need to make a stop at one more shop in Muggle London. I think we are overdue on bringing you into the present day. It’s not 1980 anymore. You need more than just an owl — you need a mobile.”

He shuffled his feet, visibly displeased at the idea of more shopping.

“After that, I’ll go on  _ one  _ flight with you and consider my commitment fulfilled.” 

Sirius opened the door to the cage and let Ollie free. “Ollie, be a good owl and fly home to the flat. Be mindful of your flatmate Hazel; she should be there and she has seniority so if you annoy her, she might eat you.” 

After Hermione’s final stop, the mobile acquired, they entered the flat through the emerald fire. 

Placing her bags on the counter, Hermione tugged at one of her curls, feeling her stomach lurch at the thought of flying.

“I’m ready. Oh! Can’t forget my signature leather.” He collected his jacket from the coat rack by the door. “Witches love a bloke in leather.”

Hermione made a face, looking unimpressed.

“What?” He frowned, nearly a pout. “You don’t like my leather jacket?”

Her lips quirked into a smile at his reaction. She really did love him in leather. “It’s not that it looks bad... you just look like the classic bad boy in a romantic comedy.”

He cranked his neck back and forth meticulously, opening the front door. “I don’t know what that is, but it feels like a compliment. We know you have a secret proclivity for bad boys,” he said, clicking his tongue suggestively.

“I just don’t see what the attraction is.” She waved a hand at him, gesturing up and down, purposefully goading him. “It’s only a jacket.”

With a gasp, Sirius covered his jacket with his open palms. “She can hear you!”

Hermione snorted. “I should’ve known it was a she.”

“Well  _ I’m inside her _ ,” he guffawed. “It’d be rather uncomfortable if she was a bloke. No judgement.” He raised his hands defensively in front of himself. “Considered it at a concert in ‘78, just not my thing.”

“It’s official, it’s happening. My eyeballs can take no more and will absolutely fall out with the constant rolling. Just how much eyeball insertion experience did you say that you have?” she asked.

“A suspicious amount.”


	10. A Thousand Stars

“Do I want to get on this motorbike?” Icy dread trickled down her spine as she eyed the bike sitting in the center of a field of wildflowers in front of them. 

Cocking his head, Sirius took her hand in his and walked backwards as he pulled her along. “Did Moony get high on fumes after a potions accident in sixth year and then cry about how small baby mandrakes are?”

“What?” The mental image made her laugh, and Sirius smiled in response. “He did not, that’s absurd.”

He gave her a knowing look and released her hand as they approached the bike.

“You’re not making it up?”

“Did Prongs take a leak in Snivellus' cauldron and cause said potions accident?”

With a groan, she asked, “If I get on the damn bike, will you stop answering questions with questions?”

Just as he opened his mouth to reply, she cut him off, “You’re about to answer that with a question, aren’t you?”

He smirked.

“I don’t want you to think you’re the only one making a sacrifice tonight, so in return for your show of bravery, I will make the ultimate sacrifice.” Sirius gave a quick nod, as if bracing himself for something.

“What are you on about?”

With a wiggle of his shoulders, Sirius shrugged off his signature leather jacket and slipped it over her. 

The jacket swallowed her and the shoulders were much too broad for her small frame, but it was oddly comfortable. Hermione had never returned his pullover and the smell of his cologne had faded after the first few weeks; she would never admit it, but it had been disappointing to find that it no longer smelled like him.

“You’re letting me wear her?” She felt oddly touched by the gesture and fingered the worn leather absentmindedly.

“Pity you don’t like leather.” A smile played on the edge of his mouth as if he had a secret. “She’s never looked better than she does on you.”

She told herself it was the prospect of flying and not the compliment or the way he looked at her that left her feeling dizzy and breathless.

“I bet you say that to all the witches you bring flying,” she quipped, hoping it wasn’t true.

His lips curved down into a frown, his brow creasing with the motion. “Actually no. You’re the first witch I’ve ever brought flying.”

The admission took her by surprise, and she almost felt guilty; without meaning to, she had sounded like she was accusing him of something. “Well, I feel honoured to be making history.” As she looked down at the machine, she wondered how two of them would fit on one seat. “Thank you for letting me wear your jacket, I feel safer already. Speaking of, shouldn’t we also wear helmets?”

“Oh, that’s unnecessary.”

“Helmets are unnecessary?” she asked, her voice higher than normal.

He shrugged, a sparkle of mischief in his eye. “Don’t worry, I haven’t fallen off in weeks.”

As she crossed her arms, the jacket bunched up around her and she grumbled, “That’s not very nice of you to tease me like that.” 

Hooking his leg around the bike, he gave her a crooked cajoling grin. “Ready?”

“I still can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“I’m very persuasive.” He gently tugged at her arm. “It should comfort you that I already have experience in this department. You’re talking to the Marauder who helped Peter overcome his fear of turtles.”

“Turtles?” she sighed, trying to loosen the tension in her body by shaking her limbs around. “Fine. I’ll close my eyes and imagine I’m somewhere else. Let’s get this over with.”

“Pretty sure that was exactly what Walburga said to Orion the night of my conception.” He grimaced. “Forget I said that,” he finished with a horrified shudder.

Hermione stood a step from the motorcycle, wringing her clammy hands together. Her vision became hazy as her anxiety grew with each passing second. Suddenly, she was back at Hogwarts during their first year, wobbling back and forth on her broom, her legs trembling as she tried to get it to listen to her commands.

“I promise you’ll be safe with me.” Sirius’ quiet voice broke through her thoughts. Her eyes focused on the hand that he offered her.

“I trust you,” she replied, her voice trembling.

Placing her small hand in his, she squeezed so tightly she was sure she had crushed his fingers, though he didn’t say anything about it. Sirius guided her onto the bike behind him and she slipped her arms around his torso. 

A familiar tightening overtook her throat and she felt her breaths coming out shorter and shallower. Her fingers trembled as they interlaced on his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath her touch. His solid frame was comforting and she found herself removing all space between them, clinging tightly to him. 

The bike roared to life beneath them and she tucked her head against his back, pinching her eyelids shut. Hermione felt a prickling sensation sweep down her body from head to toe and knew Sirius had cast a Disillusionment Charm over them.

Wind swept through her hair and around her cheeks as the bike lifted into the air, a feeling of weightlessness taking her by surprise.

“How did you help Peter overcome his fear of turtles?” The question slipped from her lips as she tried to distract herself from their ascent.

“I hid live turtles in his bed, his desk, his bath, pretty much everywhere until he wasn’t afraid anymore.”

She stilled, remembering Ron and his crippling fear of spiders. “And that worked?”

“Of course it did. The mind healer said there were hardly any long-term side effects from the trauma.”

“ _ Hardly any!? _ ”

Sirius pulled the front of the motorcycle up, making her stomach drop as they took a sharp incline into the night sky.

“Hold on, little Starling, you were made to fly!”

The wind whipped her hair around and she was suddenly grateful for the jacket shielding her from the chilled night air.

Once they reached a certain height, the bike leveled out and began to coast, gliding through the air. She finally opened her eyes and—

Her mouth dropped in awe as she drank in the sight around her. The dark sky was illuminated by a thousand stars and the waning moon, stealing the breath from her lungs.

“What do you think?” he called out, tilting his head back towards her.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, pressing her cheek against his shoulder as she watched the world pass by.

She wasn’t sure how long they flew, but the panic in her chest had let up long ago, replaced by a feeling of admiration for the beauty of the world as they traveled around the city. 

Sirius took one hand off his handlebars and placed it over hers on his chest. He gave her hand a light squeeze, the comforting motion tugging at her heart. “Doing okay?”

“Never better,” she replied, surprising herself with how true the words were.

After a gentle descent, Sirius landed back in the grass next to their flat. He hopped off the bike, picked Hermione up by the waist and placed her feet back on the ground.

“So?” The question was asked with a coy grin as he unsuccessfully tried to smooth part of her wild hair down.

Hermione grumbled obscurely under her breath.

He lifted her chin to meet his gaze and her stomach flipped as if they were still on the bike. “You liked it,” he accused in a playful tone. “Did I just single-handedly convince Hermione Granger to like flying?” 

Leaning away from his touch, she fought back a smile and replied, “It wasn’t the  _ worst _ .”

He threw his arms in the air and jogged a victory lap around the motorbike.

“Don’t flatter yourself. It was just that the bike felt more familiar and safe than a tiny little broom.”

“And they say size doesn’t matter,” he quipped with pride as he rested his hand on the seat of the bike.

She turned back to the flat, tossing him a wink over her shoulder. “Oh Sirius, darling, no one truly believes that.”

“You naughty witch!” he gasped in faux scandal, lengthening his strides to catch up to her. 

Giggling, she raced to the door, three steps ahead of him.

When Hermione opened the door to the flat, she stopped in her tracks at the scene before her. Sirius nearly ran into her in the doorway, catching himself just before the collision. 

“Shh,” she hushed him, pointing to the owls that were perched near the open window.

Hazel was cooing softly, her head tilted against Ollie’s who was rubbing gently against her in return. 

“I think Hazel took to Ollie,” Hermione mused, her heart swelling at the sight of the snuggling owls.

“Are owl weddings a thing?” His smile was full and teasing. “Because tradition dictates that you pay.”

“Oh yes. How I forgot, Sirius Black and his adherence to tradition, the most iconic of duos.”

He grumbled an unintelligible response. “You could just let me have one sometime.”

Hermione ruffled his hair, her fingers trailing through his windswept black curls. “I believe you’re far too cocky already; it’s my duty to society to keep you in line.”

As he caught her wrist, a devilish look flashed in his eyes. She faltered, looking down to his hand and, before she could process, he was swinging an arm around her, catching her by the waist and lifting her in the air as if she were weightless. 

Sirius picked her up with such ease, her mind briefly entertained the idea of other activities that could be done with his arms supporting her in the air. He clearly had the strength to pin her and take her against the wall behind them.

Her cheeks burned at the mental image.

Flailing wildly, she began to whack him playfully with her arms as she squealed, “Put me down!”

“I believe you’re far too cocky, Hermione,” his low voice purred in her ear, sending a cascade of flutters down her spine. “It’s my duty to keep you in line.”

A whimper escaped her lips. The rumble of his voice against her chest was intoxicating, and it spread through her body like the first taste of firewhisky.

The smile fell from his face and was replaced with a look of distress as he gently placed her back on the ground. Hermione steadied herself against his chest, her fingertips brushing against the muscles she had spent the night memorising.

“Fuck. Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to squeeze so tightly, I just forget how small you are sometimes,” he rambled, inspecting her wrist for a bruise. “You just seem so big when you talk and with that hair and—are you okay?”

Rallying her dignity, she feigned nonchalance. “I’m fine, I think I’m just tired. It’s been an... eventful night.”

His touch was like fire, igniting something inside her with each brush of his skin.

“You look flushed, are you sure you’re just tired?” Sirius pressed a hand to her forehead, completely oblivious to the lewd images flashing in her mind. 

Suppressing a groan of shame, she nodded. “Absolutely. Before I forget, I believe this belongs to you.” She reluctantly pulled the leather jacket off, wishing she could have kept it like she did the pullover.

“Anytime.”

She gave him a small smile. “Thanks for the flight. It wasn’t the worst.”

“Minimal trauma?” he teased, his eyes taking in the blush on her cheeks.

“Only time will tell. I’ll send you the bill for my mind healer.”

_ I’ll need one after living with you,  _ she thought dryly. 

Being his flatmate was becoming a unique and delicious type of torment.

Hermione’s alarm buzzed softly next to her head. She rolled over, her eyes bleary from sleep. Yawning, she slipped on her robe and made her way to the loo.

The door was closed; she frowned, checking the time. She had a perfectly timed morning routine, for which she was already five minutes behind.

It was the same schedule she had maintained for years, down to the minute. Most mornings, Sirius was still in bed by the time she left for work. 

He must have done this on purpose to annoy her.

“Sirius.” She rapped her knuckle on the door. “I have to get ready for work.” 

Tapping her foot, she waited impatiently. 

Several moments later she raised her hand to knock again.

The door opened, a burst of steam releasing from the room. Sirius stood in the doorway, bare except for a towel tied loosely around his waist. His skin glistened from the moisture of the shower.

Hermione’s eyes trailed down before she could consciously stop herself. His tattoos, usually hidden beneath his clothing, were now fully visible to her wandering eyes. Across his chest and shoulder he had a lion, a symbol she could not make out, a phoenix, and a compass. Dark hair peppered his toned chest into a delicious line that trailed beneath the towel. She let her eyes rest a beat too long on the towel before jumping up to his face.

She wet her lips with her tongue.

The corner of his lip twitched in amusement. “Patience, my little witch, is a virtue.”

“Oh yes,” she retorted, ignoring the empty ache in her abdomen at the sight. “Everyone knows you’re the pinnacle of virtue.”

Expectantly, he raised his brows, waiting. 

She frowned, confused at his wordless request. 

Sirius’ lips curled into a tempting smirk and he took a step forward, looking down to meet her eyes. “Like what you see, little witch?”

Her mind stuttered.

_ Yes,  _ she silently keened, pushing her thighs together at her knees.

“You do realize for me to leave, you’ll have to step aside first?” His voice dropped enticingly and caused her to swallow hard.

Her legs felt wobbly as she stepped to the side, his bare arm brushing against her as he passed. A thin white scar ran between his shoulder blades. She dragged her eyes away from his muscled back as he disappeared from view. 

“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, inhaling deeply. The steam from the room was suffocating.

It was definitely the steam going to her brain that made her mind hazy and her knees weak.

The steam.

Not the partially nude flatmate.

She rested her forehead against the doorframe, unblinking, the image burned into the back of her eyelids. 

Only twenty minutes behind her normal schedule, Hermione quickly made her way up the familiar path from the Ministry fireplaces to her desk on level four. She bypassed her morning coffee and went right to her department, still feeling flustered from her interaction with Sirius this morning.

_ Ding. _

The noise caught her attention and her eyes widened, rummaging through her briefcase as she walked, balancing it in her arms. Snapping her briefcase shut, she scanned the notification on her Nokia. 

It had taken a bit of convincing but Sirius had taken to his new device with enthusiasm as soon as he realised he could use it to bother his mates. The first call he made was a prank call to Remus and the second was a prank call to James, pretending to be Remus.

**Hey Starling, you forgot something important at the flat.**

Her brow knitted together in concern and she ran through a quick mental list of everything she needed for her work day. She typed with one hand, trying to reply as she walked. 

_ What did I _ —

“Woah! Granger!”

She jumped at the exclamation, stopping dead in her tracks. Looking up from her phone, she realised she had nearly run head first into Theo Nott. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Theodore! I wasn’t watching where I was walking,” she apologised profusely, feeling her cheeks heat up with a fresh wave of embarrassment. “I’ve had a rough morning.”

His brows disappeared behind his hairline and a smile pulled his lips to the side. “Anything I can do to make it better?”

“No, but I appreciate your offer. I just need to take a minute and breathe—”

_ Ding. _

Her eyes caught on the text dancing across her small screen.

**Me. It was me. You forgot me at the flat.**

Fighting the urge to laugh, she turned her attention back to Theo.

_ Ding. _

Despite her best intentions, she glanced back down at the next message.

**I’m willing to overlook this devastating misunderstanding for the small fee of two slices of pizza tonight.**

Theo was watching her with a curious expression. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no,” she quickly assured him, shoving it back into her pocket. “My flatmate just learned about texting this weekend and is now being relentlessly needy. Honestly, it’s my fault. I’m the one who insisted on purchasing a mobile this weekend, so I brought this on myself.”

His shoulders relaxed and he continued walking towards her desk. “How about I get you a coffee? Two cream, extra sugar?”

“Theodore, I’m going to survive. I should cut back on the caffeine anyway.” She gave him a grateful smile, her eyes catching on the folder he was carrying. “Is that for me?”

As if he had completely forgotten, he looked down at the paperwork in his hands. “Oh, yes. There’s a new development on the thefts going on in Muggle London. We’re going to apprehend the offender tomorrow and, according to our intel, he has several magical creatures involved in his operation.”

“Which creatures?”

“A small herd of Nifflers he uses to slip around and steal jewelry and other goods from unsuspecting Muggles. Then they either pawn their loot or melt it down and sell it in Knockturn Alley,” he explained, handing her the folder.

“Same as usual?” she asked, flipping the folder open and reading the introductory lines for the case. They turned into her office and she set her briefcase down before sitting on the edge of the desk to skim the document. “I’ll bring the bag and show up around nine?”

Theo ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “I’m actually going with you to the site tomorrow.” 

“Why would you—”

_ Ding. _

She pulled the phone out of her pocket with a groan and peeked at the screen. “Sorry.”

**You drive a hard bargain. I’ll reduce my offer to one slice of pizza and two compliments on my hair.**

Rapid footsteps came from down the hall. Theo looked amused as he asked, “The flatmate again?”

Nodding, she tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach with each message.

“She sure loves your attention, doesn’t she?” The corner of his mouth twitched, holding back a laugh.

Hermione frowned, her head cocking in confusion. “Oh. My flatmate is—”

Hannah Abbott popped her head through the open office door. “Hermione, I’m already late for the intro meeting with Finnigan from the DMLE and I can’t find his paperwork anywhere,” she explained breathlessly, her voice sharp with panic.

“I’ll let you go save the day, Granger. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Theodore!”

_ Ding. _

Her lips curved up into a smile as she glanced down at her phone and typed out her reply.

_ It’s a date. _


	11. Playing with Fire

At noon on the dot, a knock on her office door made Hermione look up from her half-written memo. Theo Nott was leaning against the doorframe, watching her with a wry smile.

“Good morning, Theodore,” Hermione greeted as she tucked the memo into her drawer and stood up from her desk.

“Granger.” Theo stepped to the side, allowing her to exit. “I’ve told you a million times to call me Theo.”

She raised her chin in an air of faux aloofness as she collected her cloak and wand before following him out of her office. “And I’ve told you a million times to call me Hermione, Theodore.”

“‘Hermione Theodore’ does have a nice ring to it.” He gave her a cheeky wink. 

Scoffing, she pushed lightly at his shoulder. “You’re impossible, _Theodore_.”

“Well, _Hermione,_ ” he emphasised her name with a tilt of his head, leading the way as they strolled down the aisle of desks, out of the department, and towards the lift. “Have you just been dying of impatience to get to the case today?”

“Why, yes, _Theo_.” As she walked, she slipped on her cloak and tucked her wand into her pocket. “Thank you for asking, I happen to love Nifflers.”

His dark eyes flicked down to meet hers just before he pressed the button to call the lift. “I remember you telling me about that, something about the beak?”

“I’ll have you know it’s classified as a snout, and yes, I happen to think it’s adorable.”

He made a face, gesturing for her to step into the lift first. “It doesn’t matter what you call it, it’s still attached to a menace. Those things can clear out a vault in record time and are a terror to get out of your home. We had one sneak into the Manor when I was young and the little bugger kept breaking back in every time we got rid of him.”

She gasped, holding a hand to her chest and looked up at Theo with a sympathetic gaze. “That must’ve been so difficult for you.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing as the lift shifted, traveling upwards.

“I can’t imagine,” she continued, looking off into the non-existent distance and bracing herself to keep her balance. “You’ve been through so much, and at such a vulnerable age.”

“Granger.”

Sighing deeply, she shook her head. “Not many know that level of suffering, to be so incredibly wealthy with piles of gold and valuable objects in your family Manor that you are _terrorized_ by a deviant Niffler.” 

Looking up at the ceiling he asked, “Why do I even bother with you?”

“Because you’re a glutton for punishment, Theodore.” She grinned, sauntering out of the lift as the doors opened.

She thought she heard him mutter, “Thought that much was obvious.”

They continued towards the row of fireplaces designated for Ministry employees. A crowd had gathered in front of them and slowed their pace.

“How’s the new flatmate working out?” Theo asked in a conversational tone, his eyes skimming over the group in front of them. “Does she leave dirty dishes in the sink?”

“He’s not too bad.” Hermione smiled. “Inheriting a flatmate was easier than finding my own, I suppose.

“Oh.” Theo’s head cocked, his fingers drumming against his thigh. “I didn’t know your flatmate was a bloke.”

She nodded, weaving around a trio that was standing in the walkway. “He’s James’ best mate. They grew up together and he actually owns the flat.”

He hummed under his breath and they fell into silence as they walked.

“I read the case details a few times,” she mentioned, glancing at Theo over her shoulder. He was a half-step behind her at all times, his wand holstered below his blazer and readily available in typical Auror fashion.

“I’d expect nothing less,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips. “I remember seeing you in the library at Hogwarts, surrounded by a dozen books at all times.”

Dismissing his words with a scoff, she joined the queue for the fireplace. “I can’t believe the offenders aren’t being charged with more! They knowingly released a magical creature in crowds of Muggles with the intent to steal. They could have broken the International Statute of Secrecy if the Nifflers had been spotted!” 

One by one employees disappeared into the flames. 

“Not to mention using magic at the expense of Muggles. The only reason they were even caught is because they ran into a Muggleborn on holiday with his family and he called the Aurors. You know what? I’ll write to Arthur Weasley, he helped pioneer the Muggle Protection Act and he would be appalled to hear how the rights of—”

“—Granger,” Theo interrupted, giving her a look of amusement. “After you.” He tossed a handful of powder into the fire and watched as it exploded into green flames.

She huffed, stepping into the fireplace, and Theo slipped in next to her. “Portobello Road.”

“—Muggles are being ignored and only taken seriously when it impacts someone of magical descent,” she finished with a scowl, as if he had never spoken. 

They exited the hearth and walked into a crowded marketplace filled with stands and shoppers. The fireplace had been covered with a Disillusionment Charm, appearing to be a worn-down hat shop to any nearby Muggle.

“The arrests happened about an hour ago. Are you ready for extraction?” Theo’s eye caught on a booth overflowing with flowers as they navigated through the crowd. 

She coughed out a laugh, resting a hand on her beaded bag which bounced against her thigh with each step. “You make it sound so ominous; it’s a standard procedure. I’m collecting the Nifflers and the department is donating them to Hagrid for the third years to study.”

“Typical Gryffindor — you’re far too confident for all the ways this could go wrong.”

“Typical Slytherin,” she retorted. “You shouldn’t live your life in fear of what could go wrong, otherwise you’ll miss what could’ve gone right if you’d only tried.”

Her words seemed to have caught him off guard, and his eyes drifted over her, softening slightly.

“Well, here we are.” He jerked his chin to an area blocked off by signs and Disillusioned to look like a tented office being fumigated. “Time to collect the little demons.”

Hermione’s arm disappeared into her bag, and she began pulling out glittering objects intended to lure the Nifflers out of hiding. “You know, not that I don’t appreciate the company, but I didn’t need an escort,” she griped, stepping over the threshold into the building. “I’m perfectly capable on my own.”

“Ministry policy,” Theo explained with an unapologetic shrug. He began wandering the room, surveying it with a keen Auror’s eye. “Plus, I knew my smiling face would brighten up your day.”

With a roll of her eyes, she scattered the distractions on the floor. A rustling noise filled the room from every direction — the pillows on the armchair twitched, the desk drawer rattled, the curtain swayed with no breeze. Nifflers began to pop their heads out of their hiding places and hastily waddle towards the temptations in the center of the room.

“Immobulus!” Hermione flicked her wand and a jet of blue light filled the room, halting the Nifflers in various poses, all headed towards the same goal.

Setting her bag on the ground, she expanded the opening enough to unlatch the cage sitting at the bottom. She gently picked up each Niffler and placed them in her bag one by one. Theo was leaning against the wall with his hand tucked in his pocket, smiling as he watched her.

“Letting me do all the hard work with the menaces?” she asked, wiggling a frozen Niffler at him.

“Just learning from the expert.”

As she closed the cage and latched it shut, a low rumble came from the closet just behind her. She turned, listening closer. “We missed one,” she informed him, picking up a miniature disco ball from the floor and pulling the door open.

“Hermione, don’t!” Theo jumped into action, running up behind her.

“What?” She turned to face him, hearing a gurgling noise followed by a white hot pain shooting up her right leg.

Theo leapt in front of her, covering his body with hers as he cast, “ _Stupefy_!”

A cowering baby dragon collapsed in the closet, moments after blowing fire at Hermione and burning her calf.

“Ow! Shit!” She shifted her weight onto her left leg, examining her singed skirt hem and cloak. The burn had reddened her skin and was sensitive to the touch but hadn’t severely damaged her flesh. “I’m not certified to collect and transport dragons. How did I miss that in the report?”

Theo’s jaw clicked. “That’s because it wasn’t in the report,” he replied, his voice tense. “I’m going to fucking kill Finnigan; he said he did a perimeter sweep.”

“Oh, look at this poor little guy,” she cooed, reaching down to pick up the unconscious dragon, no bigger than a small housecat. “He was just scared. It’s not his fault. He’s just a baby.”

“Granger—Hermione—don’t.” Theo scooped it up and found an empty cage in the bag. “We need to get you ointment. I know a healer with a shop nearby; I can Apparate and be back in less than five minutes.”

She slung her bag back over her shoulder and gingerly took a step forward. “I’m fine,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. “I have some at home and they’ll only be stunned and immobile for a few hours. I have to get them to Hogwarts and this dragon just upped their charges to Class A—far worse than a few Nifflers pulling off a heist on tourists. They broke the laws against dragon breeding that were put in place by the Warlock’s Convention of 1709.” 

Blocking her path, Theo dropped down to one knee to check her burn. “Fuck, that looks painful.”

“I’m fine.”

“Granger, for once, can you just listen to me? Hagrid can wait.”

“I’m not going to waste valuable time when I have a job to do,” she insisted, brushing past him and trying to suppress the urge to limp. 

She was frustrated at his overreaction—she’d had worse burns with a Muggle flat iron before she learned how to use magic to calm her curls. She was a professional and not going to give up future opportunities to work in the field because of a single incident. 

Theo let out a sound of frustration and caught up with her in a few long strides. “Let me carry you.” His hand grazed against her hip before pulling back. “You shouldn’t be walking on that.”

“It’s hardly an injury,” she argued, wincing as she sidestepped a group of students who were shopping near the Disillusioned fireplaces. “I don’t have to be carried.”

“Potter is going to murder me,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Potter doesn’t have to find out,” she tossed over her shoulder as she selected a handful of Floo Powder. “Headmaster’s Office, Hogwarts,” she declared, watching Theo’s distraught face fall into his hands as flames grew around her.

* * *

Hermione finished up delivering the Nifflers to an ecstatic Hagrid and completing a full report on the dragon before handing him over to the dragon handlers at the Ministry.

As a result, her day had run long and she was exhausted; her leg throbbed in pain with every step. Though she would never admit it, perhaps Theo had been right about receiving treatment before finishing up.

Immediately after stepping into the flat, she felt relief wash over her. She let out a deep exhale and her shoulders relaxed as she dropped her bag and cloak on the floor before stumbling down the hall. All she wanted was a tub of ointment, a bottle of wine, and a nap.

There was the sound of a shuffle followed by a call of “Flatmate!” 

She suppressed a groan.

“You’re home!” Sirius’ head popped out of his room just in time to catch her mid-grimace. Eyes widening, he jumped forward. “What’s with the face?”

“I’m fine.” She put on a fake smile. “It’s just my face. I’m tired, long day at work.” Despite her best efforts, she winced again as she put pressure on her leg.

His eyes trailed down to her injured calf and he froze. “You’re hurt.”

Just then, the fire expanded, making the Floo crackle.

“Oh god.” She threw her head back, sharing a look with Sirius. “Don’t let him freak out.”

“Don’t let who—”

“A DRAGON?!” James Potter bellowed as he stormed through the living room and towards Hermione and Sirius. “Hermione Jean! You were _attacked by a dragon_ and you _refused_ medical care?”

Sirius’ mouth dropped and, without hesitation, he hooked an arm under her shoulder and one under her legs, picking her up and carrying her back into the living room.

“Put me down!” She swatted at him. Her swinging leg bumped him and she cried out in pain. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, what do we do?” Sirius asked James, still holding a squirming Hermione as he turned around helplessly. “St. Mungos? Those twats don’t know anything.”

She groaned in annoyance, bunching the fabric of his shirt in her fist and tugging at it in a feeble attempt to get him to let go. “Why does everyone think they have to carry me?!”

Sirius paused long enough to ask, “Who tried to carry you?”

“Hermione, you should know proper protocol is to have any field injuries assessed back at the Ministry,” James rambled as he hoisted her ankle up enough to inspect her burn. Sirius’ hold on her tightened. “It’s second degree at worst; you’re lucky that you caught the end of the flame and not the entirety of it.”

Grumbling under her breath, she scowled at James but didn’t pull her leg away from him.

After pulling a tin of Murtlap Essence from his cloak, James began applying the thick paste to her leg, grumbling under his breath. “Fucking halfwit Finnegan, he’s lucky he only has desk duty for this. Should’ve sent him to clean the shit out of the Blast-Ended Skrewt’s cage.” 

The salve tingled and cooled her skin, immediately taking effect, and she felt herself relax into Sirius’ arms.

James gave Sirius a look. “You can put her down now.” The two maintained tense eye contact for a beat before Sirius lowered her onto the sofa as if she were made of glass.

“So you listen to _him_ ,” she grumbled, folding her arms as she laid her head back on one of their throw pillows.

“You’re lucky I didn’t tell Remus,” James added, tutting under his breath in disapproval. “You think I’m being tough? He would’ve given you more of a lecture than you’d ever get from me.”

She looked up at him with fear in her eyes. “Please don’t tell Remus. I still remember the lecture of ‘93 that lasted—”

“—four hours.” James sighed, his head falling forward and his eyes squeezing shut. “I’m glad you’re safe, I was so—”

“—worried. I know, I know.” Her voice was soft. “But you didn’t have to worry. I’m fine. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“I know you’re not. If you were, you would’ve actually listened to me.” James pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his green eyes sparkling and reminding her of Harry.

She reached out and took his hand, giving a squeeze. “I’m sorry you worried. I promise I’ll be more careful next time.”

Leaning forward, James placed a quick kiss on the top of her head. “You better. I shouldn’t have to hear this kind of thing from a memo at work. You nearly gave me a heart attack tonight.” He sighed. “You kids are going to age me so quickly.” 

Sirius opened his mouth with a grin and Hermione swatted at him, silently telling him not to say what she knew he had been thinking.

Dropping the tin on the end table, James headed back to the fireplace. He paused just before stepping over the threshold and looked back. “You’ll call if you need anything?” 

“I swear on my heart,” she declared, waving her hand over her chest in the way James and Remus had taught her as a child.

Finally, he smiled, repeating the motion over his own heart before being enveloped in the emerald fire.

After the last ember disappeared from the fireplace, Sirius turned to her with his arms crossed. 

“What?” she grumbled. “I don’t need another lecture.”

“I can’t believe you got to play with a dragon today and you didn’t even bring me!” he lamented, lifting her legs carefully and sitting on the sofa, letting her calves rest across his lap. “You want to know what I did today? I was so bored I nearly _read_ ”—he turned to her, lowering his voice in horror—“ _for fun._ ”

Hermione let out an inelegant snort, looking unimpressed. “You don’t have to sound so repulsed by a book. I have a few I could recommend to you if circumstances become dire. Perhaps I’m rubbing off on you.”

“How about I order us takeaway, open a bottle of wine, and you can tell me all about your day with the dragon?”

Her hand flew to her stomach, which was only a minute away from growling with rumbles of hunger. “Don’t tempt me. I want to eat an order of _everything_.”

His lips twitched into a smirk. “Done. And I have to say, Starling, I find I’m quite fond of the idea of you rubbing on me.”

“—off on you,” she corrected, biting back a laugh. “Go order supper.”

Two failed attempts at dialing his mobile and twenty minutes later, they were sitting on the floor of their living room, half a dozen boxes of Chinese food open between them. 

“You do realise that James is going to try to tag along as your Auror escort from now on, don’t you?” Sirius stabbed at a piece of broccoli with his chopstick before popping it in his mouth.

Hermione shrugged, splitting her egg roll in half and handing a piece to him. “Doesn’t matter if he wants to. He’s too advanced in his rank for field work. Plus, I had a perfectly fine escort today.” She glared at the incredulous scoff that Sirius made in response to her declaration. “What? It’s not his fault the Aurors before him missed a dragon in a closet.”

“Sounds bloody incompetant to me. James should fire the whole lot, overthrow the Ministry. I’ll be glad to take it over.”

“Sirius Black, you will not stage a coup! We are far too busy to run a government. We still have to watch all the Star Wars before the new one comes out next year.”

With a soft sound of agreement, he replied, “You make a good point. We are rather overcommitted at the moment. Perhaps next year.”

“If you overthrow the government, you’re the one doing the paperwork.”

“Blah. That’s unnecessary. Paperwork will be illegal in the new world.”

She held out her hand expectantly and they swapped containers of food, his sweet and sour chicken for her chow mein.

“You run a hard negotiation,” he declared, struggling to gather the noodles with his chopsticks, “but I’m a reasonable man and willing to compromise. After the next Star Wars, we can overthrow the Ministry.”

“And the sequel to the Titanic,” she added, ducking her head to hide her grin as she took another bite of chicken, wondering if he would realise there would never be a sequel.

He paused before conceding, “Fine, but then we _have_ to do it or we are going to sit around and get old like Prongs and Moony without having any treason along the way and that simply will not do.”

“That would be utterly disgraceful.” She scrunched her nose with a smile, resting her utensils in the box and placing it on the ground beside her. “Thank you, this was just what I needed after today.”

His eyes snapped down to her lower leg, but the pink burn was nearly gone. “I think you did more damage to James’ old man heart than you did to your skin.”

“He’s hardly _old_.”

“You youngins just don’t understand,” he sighed, his shaggy hair flipping around as he shook his head.

Hermione took a drink of her wine, pleased that it was her favourite bottle. She listed off one by one, “I’m older than you, my first pet was a rock named Pebbles, and I went blonde for a year after Hogwarts.” 

With a mischievous grin, he declared, “You have got to be the worst at this game. The lie is that you’re older than me, obviously.” 

A bright peal of laughter escaped at his confidence. “Are you absolutely sure?”

His hand reached up and he gently wrapped one of her curls around his finger, twisting the lock once before releasing it. “I can’t imagine you with blonde hair. It wouldn’t feel like you.”

Lifting his glass of wine, she pressed it into his hands. “Drink up.”

“No, you only drink if you guess incorrectly.”

The corner of her lip quirked as she took his hand and tried to wrap his fingers around the glass. “So, drink.”

“You’re not older than me!” His tone was accusatory and he refused to take the wine glass from her. 

“So, funny you should say that. I’ve been doing the math.” She set the wine down in front of him.

“I hate math,” he grumbled before taking the glass and raising it for a drink. He paused with the rim against his lips. “I’m doing this because I’m thirsty and not because you’re right.”

Cocking her glass, she continued, “According to the math, I’m actually older than you.”

“You are not.”

“Your body is twenty-one years and eleven months old, accounting for the time jump. I just turned twenty-two,” she informed him with a smirk.

Sirius’ eyes widened as his brows shot up into his hairline; his fingers moved up one by one as if he were mentally counting. “Oh, you sly little witch. You did the math just to get back at me for being a prat, didn’t you?”

With a playful glint in her eyes, she replied, “I told you not to call me ‘little witch’ anymore, Sirius. You really should learn to listen to your elders.”

“Why are you like this?”

Sipping at her wine she wiggled her brows at him. “You’ll understand one day when you’re my age.”

The proud grin on his face made her chest bloom with warmth. “I’ve created a monster.”

With a slight shrug and a flirtatious wink, she replied, “Would you look at that? You must be rubbing off on me too.”


	12. A Homemade Birthday Cake

With meticulous care, Hermione took the piping bag, which was plump with whipped cream, and applied the first layer of topping on the lemon cake on the table in front of her. She was hoping to finish decorating Sirius’ birthday cake before he returned home from his night out with Remus and James. Since she had worked late preparing her testimony against the petty thieves-turned-dragon-smugglers, she wanted to ensure the cake was perfect.

She had thought James was taking the mickey when he told her that Sirius’ favourite cake was lemon with raspberry jam, whipped cream, and an abundance of sprinkles. It wasn’t like any cake she had made before and, in the months since Sirius’ arrival, she had never seen him eat anything with raspberry in it. 

According to James, Sirius had eaten that cake for every birthday since they’d met on the first day of school.

Wiping a thin line of perspiration off her forehead with the back of her hand, Hermione attempted to pipe the topping into a decorative swirl like her dad taught her. With a concerned glance at the clock, she popped the lid off the container of sprinkles that she had purchased on her way home from work and unceremoniously dumped them on the top layer.

Stepping back with a relieved sigh, she inspected her creation. It wasn’t the most attractive cake she had ever baked, but it looked better than expected. Her dad was the expert baker in the family and hadn’t passed those genes down. Since she’d been too impatient to wait, she had tasted each element individually as she worked and felt moderately confident that she produced something edible. 

When she heard the Floo activate, her heart leapt and she was grateful she hadn’t been holding the cake or she might have dropped it. 

“Happy birthday, Sirius!” she called, carefully lifting up the cake and displaying it for him with a grin. “I made you a present.”

His lips tugged up at the corner and he quickly crossed the room to meet her in the kitchen. She set the cake stand back on the table and greeted him with a hug. 

“You’re officially twenty-two, how does it feel?”

“Suspiciously like twenty-one.” She could hear the smile in his voice even if she couldn’t see it. Before he broke the embrace, his hands gave her waist a squeeze. As he pulled back, he laughed, his fingers snagging a lock of her hair between two fingers with a gentle tug. He lifted the curl into her line of sight. “How did you manage to get flour in your hair?”

“Baking isn’t as straightforward as Potions,” she huffed, twisting her head away as he released the strand from his grasp. Tucking the stray curls behind her ears, she prompted, “You’re welcome for the cake that I spent all night making.”

As he dragged a finger through the whipped icing and popped it into his mouth, his grin widened. Her eyes never left his lips, even though the way he licked and sucked at it felt nearly pornographic, making her mind run wild. “Thank you for the cake, Starling. I can’t wait to taste the rest of it.”

Replying with a soft noise of acknowledgement, she turned away from him and rummaged in the nearby drawers for two forks and a serving knife. “Hope you still have your appetite. What did you three do tonight?”

“Birthday tradition,” Sirius replied, wiggling his brows as he reached into the cupboard and retrieved two small plates.

“Do I even want to know?”

“It’s perfectly legal,” he assured her, watching as she cut into the cake, avoiding the section that had a path through the cream from his earlier tasting. “At least, it is in most countries.”

Crinkling her nose, she placed a generous slice on each plate and set them on the table while he pulled a teapot and a pair of teacups from the cupboard. “I have to be honest, this is the oddest cake combination I have ever made but I followed the recipe James gave me. I thought chocolate would be your favourite flavour considering you’re always stealing Remus’ chocolates when you think he isn’t looking.”

“I’m doing the public a favour, you see. Remus has to be moderated in his chocolate consumption or he will gain his full strength back, become far too powerful, and overtake the Wizarding World. We must keep him weak.”

With a laugh, she replied, “Well in that case, on behalf of the world, we thank you for your sacrifice.”

“It’s about time I received the recognition I deserve.” He winked, tossing in a few teabags before waving his wand over the teapot, filling it with boiling water.

They each took a place at the kitchen table and she poked at the cake with the tines of her fork. “I’m not wholly convinced that this will taste good. It would’ve been much better with a cream cheese frosting or a raspberry compote instead of a jar of jam.”

“No need to mess with perfection,” he insisted, digging his fork into the slice and taking a bite.

She poured a portion of steaming tea for each of them, adding milk to hers, and watched as he smiled at the first taste before scooping up another forkful of cake and whipped topping. “How exactly did you come up with this winning recipe?”

Hesitating, he chewed slowly. “It’s tradition,” he replied after swallowing.

“That’s two in one night. Since when do you follow traditions?” Her brows shot up as she blew gently at the hot tea to cool it down.

“I don’t mind if it’s _my_ tradition. So, tell me about your day, how was work?”

Despite the growing urge to prod, she ignored his blatant change of subject and evasion of her question, setting down her cup before replying, “It was work, looks like there is going to be a trial for the offenders who had the dragon. They claim innocence, that they didn’t know the dragon was in their office. As if newly-hatched dragons just wander into offices and hide in closets.”

Sirius washed down his mouthful of cake with tea before shaking his head. “Terrible defence, tried it in fourth year with Binns and it earned me a week’s detention.”

“Just how much time did you spend in detention as a student?” she asked between bites, pleasantly surprised at the end result of her hard work. The cake didn’t rival her dad’s but was still delicious.

“Enough that I had my own personal third year who took that particular detention for me.”

“Sirius!”

With a wave of his hand, he insisted, “The third year was well-compensated, trust me, and Binns was half blind and none the wiser. I was nearly insulted that he didn’t recognise the difference between us because of a little hair colouring spell. I mean honestly—” he clicked his tongue and gestured down his body with a smirk “—look at me.”

“Yes, I’m sure the third year would’ve had more refined taste in cake,” she teased. Her slice was half-eaten and he was scraping the crumbs off the plate from his own serving. “I’m curious, though. I thought you didn’t like raspberries.”

His eyes flew up to her and back down to the remaining cake on the stand, and he shrugged with a strange look on his face. “I didn’t realise you noticed.”

After a beat of silence, she began to ramble, trying to fill the dead space as her face heated with embarrassment. “I wasn’t sure what to purchase for you because you could buy out half of London if you wanted, so instead I made your gifts. Harry and Ron used to complain about it all the time so I hope you don’t mind too much, though I didn’t knit you anything so perhaps it’s not as bad. Gift one was the cake but gift two…” She hopped up from her seat and beckoned him to follow behind her as she crossed the room.

Retrieving his beloved leather jacket from the coat rack, she flipped it to reveal embroidered stitching on the inside and handed it to him. He looked taken aback as he held the material between his hands and stared at the lettering with wide eyes.

“I hope I didn’t overstep. I put it on the inside so only you would know it was there,” she explained. The longer he remained quiet the more her pulse raced. “I purchased a book on motorbikes a few weeks back so I could talk more about them since it’s important to you, and I found this quote in it. I know it’s _technically_ about the proper strategy to turn a corner when riding but it reminded me of you.”

His shoulders were tense as he traced the looping script along each letter of the saying with his thumb, he muttered the words under his breath as he read them, “ _When life throws you a curve, lean into it and open the throttle_.”

The seconds ticked on in slow motion as her concern grew with each passing moment. She had never known Sirius to be speechless; he always seemed to have a retort for everything. Internally scolding herself, she started to panic that she shouldn’t have sewn into his jacket without permission. It was his prized possession, after all.

“Before I went to Hogwarts, I used to have chocolate cakes for every birthday. I’d always _felt_ different but the moment the Sorting Hat yelled ‘Gryffindor’, I knew I had never fit in with my family.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes fixed on the jacket in his hands. “Walburga and Orion were so upset with me for not following the family into Slytherin that two months into the school year they ignored my twelfth birthday. I thought I wouldn’t care, but it hurt.”

Her heart dropped, unsure of how to comfort him. He had never opened up to her like this before.

The faintest of smiles crossed his lips as he reminisced, “The family owl came just before midnight and found my room in Gryffindor Tower. I’d thought they’d changed their mind but, when I opened the box, there was a note from Regulus and this lopsided cake doused in sprinkles. Apparently, he put together whatever he could find in the family kitchen, angering the house-elves in the process, and sent me a birthday cake so I wouldn’t go without.”

Tears blurred her vision as he continued, her hands itching to take his, but she faltered at the last moment, keeping them at her sides and fidgeting instead.

“I don’t like raspberries, and to be honest I’m only half fond of lemon, but that night in my four-poster, it was the best tasting cake I’d ever had. I shared it with my new mates that I had met at the start of the year, and I’ve had one every year since.” He exhaled low and deep, his shoulders relaxing as if a weight had been removed with the admission. “It might sound ridiculous but it tastes like ‘fuck you’ to Walburga and Orion, which I feel is appropriate for the annual celebration of my birth.”

“That’s not ridiculous,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “It’s a lovely story.”

Finally looking up from the stitching, Sirius took in the sight of her red eyes and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, placing a quick kiss to the top of her head. “I couldn’t have picked a better suited gift, thank you.” 

After a moment of pause, he pressed his lips on her forehead, lingering a moment longer than before. The feeling of his lips burned into her skin and she closed her eyes on instinct, leaning into the touch. He pulled away, and she opened her eyes just in time to see him disappear down the hall to his room, jacket in hand. 

Her hand brushed against her forehead where his lips had been, wishing she had kissed him back when she had the chance.

* * *

At half past eight, Ginny and Harry came bustling through the Floo carrying a bottle of wine. 

“So sorry we are late,” Ginny apologised, hugging Hermione and passing her the wine. “Mum took forever at the dress fitting, kept asking a thousand questions and taking photographs. Believe it or not, it took less time than the cake tasting last week.”

Harry kissed Hermione’s cheek in greeting and whispered a theatrically pitiful, ‘help’ in the shell of her ear.

With a laugh, she added the bottle of wine to the two already waiting on the coffee table between large bowls of popcorn. 

“Cake tasting sounds like it would be the best part of wedding planning,” Hermione sighed. “I’d fake an engagement just to have a day of free cake samples.”

“It’s not nearly as nice as you make it sound, not the way Molly Weasley does it,” Harry protested, settling into the sofa with a heavy groan. “I can never look at a cake the same way again. I nearly vomited after eating the twentieth option.”

“You ate the entire slice every time,” Ginny tilted her head at him with a knowing look, devoid of any sympathy. “I told you only to eat a bite from each sample and what did you do?”

“Perfectly good waste of cake,” he grumbled, crossing his arms in a pout. “We went with salted caramel chocolate, if you were curious, and no I don’t even remember what it tastes like anymore so don’t bother asking about it.”

They settled around the room, Hermione, Harry, and Sirius on the sofa and Ginny lounging in the arm chair, her feet resting on the ottoman.

Not two minutes into the film, a man was surrounded by a crowd as he began to pull items out of his briefcase, beginning to barter the jewelry and various items. With a squeal of delight, Hermione sat up and took a single piece of popcorn from the bowl in Harry’s lap. 

Sirius turned to face Hermione and tilted his head back, opening his mouth. 

“What is this?” Ginny asked, barely holding back a laugh as Sirius leaned to the right, caught the popcorn on his tongue, and clapped his hands once in triumph as he chewed it. 

“Alright, Starling, let’s see if you can break your losing streak,” Sirius smirked, pinching a piece between his fingers and moving his hand forward and back, testing the arc of his throw. He tossed the popcorn across Harry and it bounced off Hermione’s lip and onto the floor. 

Harry held the bowl in his hands, looking between Hermione and Sirius and back over to Ginny. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Groaning, Hermione covered her face with her hands in shame. “I still have to insist it’s your throw that’s off, not my catch.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, now.” Sirius grinned, popping the cork from the bottle Ginny provided and pouring Hermione a glass. 

She took a sip, glaring at him from over the rim. 

“Is anyone going to explain this to us?” Harry asked, gathering a handful of popcorn and shoving it into his mouth.

“We play games during film night. The last time we watched _Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels_ , we tossed popcorn any time there was a reference to stealing, a scene where they gambled, or they’re running away from the police,” Hermione tapped her fingers on her wine glass with a small shrug. “It was Sirius’ idea.”

Sirius leaned across Harry and took Hermione’s glass, taking a gulp of wine before handing it back. “And that was two! Bacon tried to sell stolen goods and the police are right about”—he snapped his fingers just as two policemen rounded the corner with angry expressions—“there.”

“You drink if you miss the popcorn,” Hermione explained, placing the wine glass back on the table. “Which becomes more common the more wine you drink. It goes into a downward spiral quickly.”

“Or you drink if you like the wine,” Sirius added. “I have impeccable catching abilities and just drink in solidarity with Hermione.”

Ginny’s brows shot up. “Just how many times have you two seen this film?”

“You’d be surprised,” Hermione mumbled, distributing the rest of the bottle between the empty glasses. “Sirius picked this one three weekends in a row.”

“It’s really Hermione’s fault; she’s the one who introduced me to action films. The Buster has so many options!”

Harry’s head cocked as he asked, “The Buster?” 

Crinkling her nose, Hermione muttered, “Honestly, don’t get him started if you want to enjoy tonight.” She stuck out her tongue at Sirius who grinned in response.

“Swap me seats?” Harry asked Ginny in a hopeful voice before mouthing ‘please.’

Hermione tossed a piece of popcorn and it ricocheted off Harry’s cheek. “Drink up!”

Pointing at the telly, Harry complained, “Nothing happened to start a new round.”

“Oh, no, that wasn’t part of the game. You were just being a cheeky git.”

Sirius covered his laugh poorly with a cough, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand as he cleared his throat.

With a scowl, Harry threw a handful of popcorn at Hermione, a single piece stuck in her wild curls. “You can’t call me a cheeky git! Dad said you had to stop!”

“We were fifteen!” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Plus if you tell him then I’ll tell him what you did over Christmas holiday in sixth year when you said you were visiting the Burrow.”

Gasping, Harry’s voice lowered dangerously. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Sirius looked at Ginny with a baffled expression, his brow knotted in confusion. “Now I’m the one who is lost— _what_?”

Slumping down in her seat, Ginny took a long pull from her wine glass. “Oh, this? They fight like this all the time. They’ll get over it, just give them a minute.”

“For the last time, Harry, Crookshanks didn’t eat your ice mice! He doesn’t even like sweets!”

“Oh yeah?” Harry challenged, his green eyes flashing. “Then why was he squeaking, Hermione? _Why was he squeaking_?”

She huffed, the movement dislodging the single piece of popcorn from her hair. “He has _allergies_. The pollen count was quite high that year.”

Harry snorted and Hermione followed soon after, covering her mouth with her hands as they laughed. She looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder, the two settling down as if nothing had happened.

“You have a brother. You must know how this goes,” Ginny rolled her eyes. Sirius’ lips curved downward, though Ginny didn’t notice. “I have to say, I had really hoped they would’ve grown out of it by now.”

“Hey!” Harry and Hermione declared, catapulting popcorn at Ginny. 

* * *

By the time the credits ran up the screen, two bottles of wine had been finished and the third had been opened. They had spent more time laughing and talking than they had actually watching the telly, though Sirius had made sure to pause the conversation to quote his favourite scenes along with the actors.

“Not to mention that time you got me in trouble for using Lily’s makeup!” Hermione crossed her arms with a frown. “It wasn’t even my idea! You’re the one who wanted to try out the eyeshadow.”

“I was _coerced_!”

“I don’t think you know what coerced means, Harry. You picked the colour yourself.”

Harry turned to Sirius, his eyes half lidded from the hour and the wine. “She’s just upset I looked better in the copper rose shimmer than she did. How about I tell you the story of the time I found Hermione kissing a photograph in her diary goodnight—”

A shrill battle cry erupted from Hermione’s lips as she tackled Harry, throwing her hand over his mouth. 

Between the garbled words muffled by her palm, there was a very distinct “—Lockhart!”

“Why is it always him?” Sirius grumbled, moving out of the way as the pair continued to fight as if they were twelve again.

“Someone jealous?” Ginny mused, draining the last bit of her wine with a smirk. 

Sirius hooked an arm around Hermione’s torso and lifted her up off of Harry, eliciting a squeal as she was raised in the air and placed back on the ground. “Children, that’s enough. The flat isn’t outfitted to start a fight club until Tuesday. You can have your match later.”

“Speaking of matches, we have a home game in a couple weeks against Puddlemere United and I have a box for the family if you two would like to attend,” Ginny offered, collecting the empty wine glasses from the table and balancing them in her hands as she carried them into the kitchen. “Just make sure to wear green and gold!”

“I swear to Merlin, Ron better not bring that old talon hat again. At the very least, I wish he’d take the charm off it, it started stroking his hair last time.” Harry made a face, sharing a look with Ginny as she returned to the living room.

Hermione’s stomach lurched at the thought of seeing Ron again, especially around Sirius.

“Thank you for a lovely evening.” Ginny hugged Hermione goodbye, followed quickly by Harry. “We’ll see you tomorrow at the Potters?”

“Of course.” Hermione watched as they disappeared through the Floo. She fell backwards onto the sofa, her shoulders slumping as she tilted her head lazily from side to side, stifling a yawn. “Goodness, what a night.”

Sirius slipped in next to her and his arm rested on the back of the sofa behind her. “Feels a bit odd...Hearing the stories and having missed it all.”

Her eyes flicked up to his face; he was staring across the room at the empty fireplace. 

“He and Ginny remind me a lot of James and Lily at that age.”

She turned to face him, suddenly realising how close they were sitting together on the large sofa. “They weren’t always like this, you know. Harry wouldn’t even admit he fancied her until our last year of school—was too worried about Ron’s reaction. They were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team together and it was obvious to anyone with eyes that they were mad about each other.”

Sirius’ chest fell, his silver eyes meeting hers. She saw a flash of sadness pass over him. “Will you tell me about it?”

As she thought about the details, she smiled. “There was one match — the start of our seventh year — and Harry was diving for the snitch when he saw a bludger headed towards Ginny. The beaters were too far away and Ginny wasn’t looking, so Harry dove in front of it and took the blow. It snapped his broom clean in half. He broke a couple ribs, his left leg, and had a wicked concussion. Ginny didn’t leave his side in the Hospital Wing until he woke up and she scared off anyone who tried to make her leave.”

“Let me guess, when he woke up they had a big declaration of love?”

Hermione laughed, grabbing a nearby throw pillow and tucking it against her chest with her chin resting on top. “Not even close. After he woke, the first thing she did was yell at him for staring at her instead of catching the Snitch.”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “I knew I liked her.”

“And then he kissed her.”

She could’ve sworn his eyes glanced at her lips.

“Harry proposed to her with that same Snitch last summer. He hid the ring inside, said it was the best catch he never made.”

* * *

The next morning, Hermione was in the kitchen helping Harry and Ginny set the brunch dishes to wash. The dining room was suspiciously empty, and she left the couple to finish the rest of the cleaning while she went looking for everyone else. 

After peeking into three nearby rooms with no success, she heard a clatter down the hall and followed the sound. Tonks and Lily were crouching on either side of the door frame to James’ office, and the door was wide open.

“What are you—”

Lily hushed Hermione, pushing her index finger against her lips while Tonks laughed behind her hands. With a wave of her hand, Lily beckoned Hermione to hide with them. 

“What’s going on?” Hermione hissed, keeping her voice low as she ducked behind Tonks, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on in the room.

“See for yourself,” Tonks snickered, her shoulders shook with laughter and her long straight hair transitioned from blue into a bright shade of purple. 

“No, honestly, Prongs, you are not listening,” Sirius sounded exasperated and she could hear him pacing the room. “Go get a door, I’ll show you.”

She recognised the sound of James sighing, “I’m not going to take the door off its hinges just so you can—”

“Fine! I’ll get the door, then!” Sirius declared. Hermione couldn’t see what was happening at this moment, but she heard a loud thud followed by heavy footsteps.

With wide eyes, she peered around the corner into the room just in time to see Sirius placing a wooden door on the ground on top of a large red and gold rug that Harry used to say belonged to Godric Gryffindor himself. 

The door that led from the office to the spare loo was off its hinge. 

“This is preposterous, I don’t know why you’re insisting—oh my god.” James put his head in his hands as Sirius laid down on the door and turned on his side.

“Moony, come here. You be Rose and I’ll be Jack.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squinting like he had a headache from the conversation. “I’m not—”

“Fine, _I’ll_ be Rose and _you_ be Jack,” Sirius amended, reaching out his hand to Remus who ignored it.

“There’s no way I’m laying on this door with you. I’m too old for that and I don’t even remember how we got into this argument.”

With an incredulous scoff, Sirius threw his arms out to his sides. “We got into this row because you’re both afraid of the truth! It was a conspiracy and you fucking know it. She wanted that necklace for herself and she just let Jack drown to get rid of any witnesses. That is why Titanic is my favourite murder mystery.”

Lily’s arm looped around Hermione’s shoulder and she squeezed gently before dropping it, giving her a smile as she whispered, “Believe it or not, they were worse when they were younger. Our boys are quite preposterous when they start a debate but it’s quite entertaining when they get into it.”

 _Our boys._

Hermione’s pulse quickened as she focused back in on the discussion in front of them.

James shook his head in disagreement, nudging Sirius with his foot, who in turn tickled his toes with an impish grin. “It’s not the _size_ that’s the problem, it’s the buoyancy. Even if they could both fit on top of it, it would have sunk from their combined weight.”

After a beat, Sirius hopped up and disappeared into the loo, his voice bouncing off the tiled walls. “If that’s what you believe, then I’ll get the water.” 

“No!” James chased after him, disappearing into the loo. “We are _not_ flooding my home so you can test your ridiculous film theory!”

Groaning, Remus followed, stepping around the door. “You’re going to need a pool because this room is not sealed properly for the level of testing we’re going to need to satisfy my curiosity.” 

“Remus, don’t encourage him! And Sirius, you’re going to put this damn door back before Lily notices!”

Tonks tugged at her hair which began to shrink into a pixie cut. “It’s going to be a while. Should we break out the mimosas?”

With a grin, Hermione replied, “After dealing with them, I think we’ve earned it.”

Pulling her back down the hall towards the empty dining room, Lily laughed, “We’ve absolutely earned it and I’m sure they won’t mind. They’ll be happy that their witches are happy. Shall we?”

Before Hermione had the chance to consider correcting Lily on her phrasing, Tonks added, “Let’s get Ginny one too. She has to live with the second-generation honorary Marauder. It takes a special sort of woman to love a Marauder but Morgana knows they’re worth it.”

Humming softly in agreement, Hermione’s chest bloomed with warmth at the thought.


	13. The Bookstore in Diagon Alley

“Here comes the sun, do, dun, do, do, here comes the sun,” Hermione sang under her breath, rocking her hips in time to the beat in her head as she shifted around the kitchen, scooping a fried egg from the pan and plating it to her left with a flourish. “And I say, it’s all right.” She hummed the guitar chorus under her breath, buttering a stack of toast and slicing it diagonally. 

Lifting the spatula to her lips like a microphone, she swayed and sang, “Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting. Little darl—ah!” She jumped, dropping the spatula and placing her hands over her heart, trying to calm the rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins.

Sirius stood near the entrance to the kitchen, watching her with a smile, his eyes crinkled at the corners. He was still wearing his pyjamas and looked more delicious than breakfast.

“Oh my god, how long have you been standing there?” Her hands moved from over her heart to cover her face. After a few seconds, her fingers split and she peered through the gap at him in horror. 

His smile widened and her stomach somersaulted at the sight. “I’d say just around here.” He mimicked her earlier motions, wiggling his hips and singing, “Here comes the sun.”

Dropping her hands to her sides, she tilted her head back with a groan, feeling her cheeks flush. “God, you have light footsteps.”

“Sorry I startled you, Starling. I was just enjoying the show,” he teased, his eyes lingering on her pinkened cheeks. Crossing the kitchen, he picked up the fallen spatula and set it in the sink.

It was just after sunrise and she was up earlier than normal, hoping to surprise him with breakfast in bed. When Sirius turned to face her, his eyes drifted lower, taking in her appearance, and she felt her face flushing. She was wearing an old Gryffindor Quidditch jersey that Harry had gifted her a few years back. After her second growth spurt, the hem barely covered her upper thighs, and it seemed Sirius had taken notice.

Trying to redirect his attention, Hermione cleared her throat and said, “I had been hoping to surprise you.” She felt her shoulders sag and her lower lip protrude slightly in disappointment.

“Consider me thoroughly surprised,” he replied, picking up the plates from the countertop and setting them on the table on the placemats. “As one of the nation’s leading experts in horrible ways to wake up, you serenading the food doesn’t even make the list, I promise you.”

He pulled out her seat and she gave him a grateful smile, settling into her chair and dropping a serviette in her lap. Maneuvering around the kitchen, he collected utensils and a container of pumpkin juice with two glasses, setting the table. 

“What are your plans for the day?” she asked, pouring them each a glass of juice and handing one to him as he joined her at the table.

“Thought I’d start a band,” he replied before ripping off a piece of his toast and popping it into his mouth. “Do you by chance know how to play the didgeridoo?”

She speared a bite of egg onto the tip of her fork and shook her head. “I could never get the circular breathing quite right.”

“Pity, we are short a didgeridoo player.”

“We?”

He wiggled his brows in response, taking a long pull from his glass. “And what are our plans for tonight after you come home from work?”

 _Our plans_ . The mere concept made her smile. “Well, I’m going to the bookstore in Diagon Alley if you’re interested in joining me. Robin Smith just released her latest in my favourite series, _Curse-Breakers_ , and I’m too impatient to wait for the owls to deliver the copies this weekend.”

“I think that sounds like a riveting way to spend the night.”

“Yeah, okay,” she snorted in disbelief, picking up the nearby shaker and adding a dash of salt to her eggs. 

He tousled her hair, agitating her curls and causing her nose to scrunch. She dropped her fork and swatted at his hands, making him chuckle. “You’re snarky in the morning. My alternative is babysitting Teddy. I’m not opposed, but I think Tonks is still cross with me for instigating the food fight last time.”

“She said you got spaghetti stuck in their ceiling fan.”

He shrugged indifferently. “War always has casualties.”

“I hope you know we barely avoided an international incident with your little act of war and it was a nightmare for the diplomats to clean up. Italy does not take kindly to disrespect to spaghetti.” She dipped the corner of her toast into the runny center of her egg before taking a bite.

“Well, then you should be aware that the real act of war against the Italians began long before I challenged Teddy into a contest to see who could throw a noodle the farthest. Moony didn’t even use real pasta, it was _zucchini_!” He shuddered at the memory, as if reliving the horror of vegetable noodles.

Her eyes lifted to the ceiling in mock horror. “However did you survive?” 

A smug grin slid across his lips. “When the fan is in motion, it flings the noodle farther. If you’re curious, I won.”

“Against a three year old.”

“He has a very strong arm. It took ingenuity and solid timing to win.”

“Speaking of, I hope you’re proud of yourself. It took me nearly ten minutes to find the toaster this morning. Even _Accio Toaster_ didn’t work because of the duct tape.”

“I am proud.”

* * *

Hermione strolled through the aisles of the quaint bookstore, her fingers grazing along the spines as she scanned the titles. Every few steps she paused, retrieving a book from its spot on the shelf and flipping through the pages. A stack floated behind her, including the fifth book in the _Curse-Breakers_ series. 

This was her favourite shop in all of Diagon Alley and she tried to visit at least once a month. The storeowner knew her by name and often set aside new arrivals for her in anticipation of her trips. In the corner of the shop, there was a set of plush chairs in a nook where she had enjoyed many hours of reading.

Sirius navigated through the aisles with her, occasionally straying to look at a display or book on his own. He had added two books to her floating stack when her back was turned, as if she wouldn’t notice the height increase. 

Even though they had been in the shop for over an hour, he had not complained once. If anything, he seemed to like watching her as she chewed her lower lip and skimmed through the texts. He was a more considerate shopping companion than Harry or Ginny who tended to whine every few minutes rather than let her peruse in peace.

Through a gap in the bookcase, she caught a glimpse of sandy-blond hair. It was styled to the side in a familiar way that brought back a flood of memories, and her breath caught in her throat.

Securing the book back into the gap on the shelf, she reflexively dove behind the nearest display, crouching down and hoping it covered her telltale curls. Her pulse went wild under her skin as she heard his footsteps grow closer. It had been nearly a year since she last saw him.

Flashes of painful memories ran through her mind in sequence—straight blonde hair, an arched back, and the sound of skin on skin. 

The bedcovers Hermione had purchased for their bed, skewed about under their sweating, tangled bodies.

Shouted expletives, burning tears, the look in his eyes as he begged her to stay. “ _She meant nothing!_ ”

The frantic apology from the other witch—“ _I’m so sorry, I had no idea! He said he was single._ ”

Hermione swallowed.

“Not that I mind some mischief, but what are you doing?” Sirius mused quietly, leaning against the display with his arms crossed over his chest and watching her with a glint of affection in his eyes.

Her eyes widened as she waved her hand in a frantic motion and hissed, “Get down! He’ll see—”

“Hermione?” 

Her eyes clenched shut at the sound of his voice. She silently counted to three in her head, releasing a slow breath before opening them. Pulling a thick book from the bottom shelf, she stood and held it in her hands, as if she had been down there for a purpose.

As if she hadn’t been hiding.

She had no idea what book she was about to purchase, let alone what section she was in. 

“Cormac!” Her voice strained and raised in a cheery manner that she hoped sounded carefree and not at all mortified. She saw Sirius tense, his eyes tightening as they flew from Cormac back to her.

When Cormac stepped closer to embrace her—as if their shared past wasn’t murkier than the Black Lake—she instinctively stepped away before he could touch her.

His lips turned down, eyes scanning her critically from head to toe and pausing on her plain flats. He had always asked her to wear heels. _‘All the other witches at work wear heels,’_ he had told her. ‘ _Why don’t you ever try for me?’_ , he would ask. Insecurity flooded her veins and she found herself tugging at her periwinkle blouse with white polka-dots, wishing she had dressed up more for the outing.

When she had imagined the first time she saw him after the breakup, part of her always hoped that her outfit would leave him salivating in her wake, dripping with regret.

“How...How are you?” she asked, her voice lilting higher than usual while her fingers tightened on the book, knuckles turning white under the force of her grip.

Sirius’ head tilted slightly to the side as he observed them in turn, dissecting each non-verbal clue their body language revealed.

“Great, just received a promotion at work. We won the Lanington case last month.” Cormac’s mouth curled into a half smile, half sneer. He straightened the knot on his tie, still dressed in a full suit from the office.

“That’s...lovely,” she struggled to get the words out, trying desperately to sound casual. “I know how hard you worked on it over the past few years.”

With his nose turned upwards, Cormac’s eyes flicked to Sirius and back to Hermione. “Well, it was only a matter of time. You know me, I always get what I want. Always.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Sirius shift so he was slightly in front of her. An alarm sounded in her mind. The look on Sirius’ face as he glared at Cormac told her that no matter the small talk, he was not going to have a cordial conversation with her ex-boyfriend.

Hermione cleared her throat and looped her arm around Sirius’, resting her hand on his bicep. “Right. Well, we’d best be going. The hair regrowth potion guides are covered in the section to your right under health. I do recall how concerned you were with your _rapid_ balding—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s _thinning_ , not balding,” Cormac hissed, his eyes darting around to see if they were overheard. 

She felt Sirius’ bicep tense and noticed his hand was clenched into a fist.

A growl rumbled low in Sirius’ chest and Hermione began tugging on his arm, attempting to guide him to the register so they could pay and leave. 

He didn’t budge.

Cormac gestured at Sirius with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “And this is supposed to be the rebound, I presume?”

Her spine straightened and she released Sirius’ arm as a strangled sound, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, bubbled up from her throat. “The _rebound_? It’s pathetic you thought that farce of a relationship was significant enough to call for a rebound.”

His eyes burned into her with a harshness she had once thought him incapable of and he jerked his chin towards Sirius. “Is he deaf or something? It would make sense. I don’t know how else he’d stand listening to your shrill little voice without wanting to _Avada_ himself.”

“Gods! I don’t know what I ever saw in you, you arrogant arsehole! You’d be lucky to be half the man Sirius is! He’s the best man I know, he’s _good_ , and he’s _kind_ , and he’s unfallably loyal—something you know nothing about!” She shoved the book haphazardly on the shelf, knocking several over in the process. Clenching her hands into fists, she felt her nails digging crescent shapes into her palms. “If anything _I_ don’t deserve _him_ , so you can fuck off back to your little hovel of slags and pray you don’t forget to use a venereal disease prevention spell—though it’d be better for humanity if your cock fell off now before you had the chance to procreate.”

The longer she spoke, the redder Cormac’s face became until a single vein in his temple protruded, anger flowing off of him in waves. “You think you’re so mighty but you’ll come crawling back, and when you do I might just take pity on you. Perhaps I’ll invest in a muzzle, it’d be fitting for a bitch—”

Sirius made a noise that Hermione did not recognise. In one fluid movement, he stepped in front of her, raised his fist, and slammed it against Cormac’s face with a horrifying crack. Blood gushed from Cormac’s nose as he collapsed backwards into a bookcase before landing on the hardwood floor.

“Mother fucking shitbag twathead fuckface wanker!” Sirius snarled in a single breath, his chest heaving as he shook his hand back and forth in the air, trying to lessen the sting from the punch.

A pitiful whimper came from the bloodied wizard on the floor, now curled up in a fetal position with his hands covering his head in a protective stance.

The books, which had been floating with Hermione, fell to the floor. She dragged Sirius out of the shop before her mind even registered the groaning mess of blood and tears on the floor that was her ex-boyfriend.

“Oh my god, Sirius.” Hermione picked up her pace as they hurried down the alleyway. He inspected his knuckles while they walked, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe Cormac’s blood away. “I can’t believe you hit him.”

Sirius was still fuming. He massaged his bruised knuckles and his face contorted in something she could not place; he looked almost ill. “I can’t believe you dated that cuntpuddle fuckwit.”

Despite herself she gave a faint smile. “Are you quite done?” 

“Cumwipe, tosspot, cuntflaps.” He exhaled deeply, as if the release of words were therapeutic. “I’m done.” A beat passed before he added, “No, wait, fucktrumpet. Now I’m done.”

Her heart skipped as she processed what had just occurred. 

He was _protective_ of her. 

The thought made her toes curl and her stomach flip.

“Are you okay?” Sirius stopped mid-step and pulled her to the side of the alleyway, allowing others to pass by while they talked. His tone was filled with concern, his eyes searching her up and down as if making sure she wasn’t harmed.

“You could get in so much trouble.” She leaned against the brick wall next to them, her legs suddenly feeling unsteady. 

As the adrenaline wore off, her hands began to tremble. Her mind began to race at all of the ways Cormac could use the assault to get revenge and to hurt Sirius. The world felt short on oxygen and she pulled a ragged inhale of air into her lungs, bending over at the waist as she gasped for more.

Sirius said something low and comforting, but she couldn’t hear it over the static noise in her ears. He helped her stand up and wrapped an arm around her waist to balance her. Leaning into the touch, she looped her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled into his neck. The scent that clung to his clothes grounded her and her heart rate began to slow when she focused on the sensation of his fingertips dragging slowly through her hair. 

“Are you okay?” He leaned back, raising his hands to cup her cheeks. 

The worry in his eyes made tears blur her vision.

“Fuck.” He pulled her back against his chest and she felt so safe in his embrace. “I knew two seconds into that interaction that I was not leaving the conversation without drawing blood.”

“Sirius, what if he—”

“Don’t worry about me, not for a second, okay? If he comes back to fight, then I can take him, and if he tries anything else, then I can afford the lawyers. Love, you are worth more than every Knut and Galleon in my entire bloody vault.”

Before she could talk herself out of it, she brushed her lips against his cheek, the trimmed hair of his beard prickling against her lips.

She felt him exhale when she tucked back into him, fingers curling around the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Thank you,” her voice muffled into his shoulder. “Cormac’s a real wanker.”

Sirius let out a sound of incredulity. “That’s an understatement.”

Hermione told herself to pull away. 

The seconds beat in her head with her heartbeat.

She swallowed, wondering how long she could get away with maintaining the embrace.

A bolt of electricity danced through her veins as she noticed that he was still holding on to her too. Hermione was pushing her luck—she’d never held Harry or Ron like this, or for this long. She leaned back, briefly noting how his hands tightened their hold before releasing.

He turned and guided her down the street, hand ghosting her lower back. Once they were halfway down the street, Hermione realised he had called her _love_. He had never done that before.

Her eyes drifted to the ice cream parlour in front of them. Sirius followed her gaze and grinned, taking her hand in his and pulling her across the cobblestone alleyway.

“I thought you wanted to shop,” she argued, but didn’t object when he opened the door for her.

“I _am_ shopping. I’m dangerously low on my ice cream supply.”

Five tasting spoons and two scoops of ice cream later, they were sitting on a bench just outside the shop, enjoying their frozen treats.

“I can’t believe you got vanilla.” Hermione took a lick of her rocky road, savouring the taste of chocolate as it melted on her tongue. “That’s the most basic of all ice cream flavours.”

“Excuse you, this is a classic. You’re just trying to divert the conversation to my fantastic taste in ice cream so you can avoid talking about your terrible taste in wizards.”

“I hope you know that I didn’t let him off easy.”

She caught Sirius staring at her lips as her tongue darted across to catch the melting ice cream. “What did you do? Hide his favourite books before leaving?”

“Nope. I work more subtly than that.”

“Yes. Subtle. With a fleet of trained attack birds, for example,” he offered with a teasing smile. “Nothing says subtle like the Queen of Hippogriffs, savior of Hippogriff kind.”

“Exceptions,” she waved it off, biting into the edge of her sugar cone with a crunch. “Through no intervention of mine, he was suspiciously impotent for six months after we broke up.”

Sirius halted with his cone halfway up to his lips and winced, shifting his legs together. “Shit. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“He’s decently bright, so I’m sure he made the correlation. I just knew he’d be too proud to admit having the problem in the first place, and therefore couldn’t accuse me of causing it.” She shrugged, twisting the cone as she licked the base of the scoop before it melted onto her hands. “It was the least I could do after he left me practically homeless.”

“I can’t believe Remus and James didn’t tell me that twatwaffle was the reason you were out of a flat.” His face hardened in the same way it had earlier. She reached down to squeeze his hand gently before releasing it, watching how his expression shifted just from her touch.

“They didn’t know. I was nervous to tell them that I was moving in with a wizard after only a couple months of casual dates because I thought they’d say I was moving too quickly—which I was—and then a week after I moved in, I found Cormac in bed with a witch from his work. I signed a lease for the first flat I could find which ended up being awful, and I left as soon as the year was up.” She looked down at the ground, kicking a nearby rock with the toe of her shoe. “They knew I had been seeing someone but I told them it didn’t work out between us. It wasn’t a complete secret; Harry and Ginny knew what happened.” 

“What? Why didn’t you tell James and Remus? I thought you told them everything.”

She gave him a pointed look. “You think I tell my overprotective adoptive magical fathers about my love life? You broke Cormac’s nose and maybe his jaw too.”

“Arsehole deserved it.”

Hermione worried her lip between her teeth, fighting back a smile as they stood up to leave. “He really did. Also, cuntflaps? Fucktrumpet?”

He coughed back a laugh, guiding her with his hand on the small of her back as they turned a corner back towards the public fireplaces. “Yeah, I uh, got a little carried away back there. I honestly think I blacked out for a moment.”

“If you ever bring this up, I’ll deny it, but it was really satisfying to see you smash his smug face in.”

There was a renewed skip in his step as he beamed. “It was, wasn’t it?”


	14. Little Flecks of Gold

“Shit,” Hermione muttered, staring at the clock, her foot tapping against the floor in an anxious tic.

With a glance to her phone, she saw Sirius still hadn’t returned any of the text messages she had sent on her way home from the Ministry.

The fireplace roared to life and he stepped through, wearing an old pair of jeans and a ratty band t-shirt, smudges of oil and grease all over his clothing. A thin layer of grime stained his hands and collected under his fingernails. 

When he saw Hermione standing in front of him wearing her favourite plum purple dress, he grinned and ran a hand through his hair, adding a smear of grime at his hairline. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes—”

Her eyes were wide with panic as she exclaimed, “Sirius, you didn’t answer your mobile! Where were you?”

His grin dropped and he rushed over to her. “What happened? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Do I need to punch another wanker? It’s that Finnigan guy, isn’t it? Consider it done, I’ll—”

“Sirius, stop, you don’t have to fight anyone.” She looked up at the clock and back to him, her fingers tugging through her curls as she frantically tried to tame them with hairpins. “I _just_ found out a half hour ago. You don’t have to stay—”

“—stay?”

There was a knock at the front door.

“Shit.” 

“What’s going on?” His eyes flicked to the front door and back to Hermione. “Who is that?”

Smoothing her dress down, she took in his disheveled appearance with a grimace. “My parents are here.”

His jaw slacked and he sucked in a sharp inhale. “ _Shit_.”

She hummed in agreement. 

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right back.” He held up two fingers and rushed back to his room.

“You don’t have to”—her sentence was cut off by a slam—“stay.”

Opening the front door, Hermione greeted her parents as they stepped over the threshold.

“Oh, this is much nicer than the last flat!” her mum announced, sounding pleased. “I was starting to worry when you put off the visit. Where is Sirius?”

Hermione frowned, her brow furrowing. “He’s—”

Just then, Sirius emerged from his room wearing a pair of fitted black trousers, an untucked white button-up and a grey jumper overtop. The way the material perfectly clung to his frame made her believe it had been created for him. 

When he turned, she caught the glint of a silver watch on his wrist that she had never seen before. She assumed that he’d cast cleaning charms on himself because she hadn’t heard the shower and all signs of dirt or grease had disappeared. 

As he made his way down the hall to the living room, she couldn’t stop staring. She had never seen him in anything other than jeans and t-shirts or pyjamas before this moment, and he looked _sinfully_ good.

“Mr. and Mrs. Granger, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you. I’m Sirius Black.” He extended a hand to shake her father’s and followed it with a lift of her mother’s hand to his lips for a chaste kiss. 

Her parents shared a quick look before her mother gave him an easy smile. “Jean and William, please. It’s so lovely to put a face to the name after all the stories! I swear, whenever I call Hermione these days, she only talks about you.”

Feeling her cheeks heat, Hermione shot her mum a glare as she tried to ignore the way the corner of Sirius’ lips quirked up at the admission. Her father and mother slipped off their shoes and jackets, hanging them up near the door.

“I can’t believe you’ve lived here for months and this is the first time we are seeing the flat.” Her father cocked his head at Hermione with a look that was more teasing than disapproving. “We were starting to think you didn’t want to see us.”

“Of course not, Dad! You and Mum are always welcome to visit. Would you like a tour? I can show you the before and after pictures for the living room if you’re interested.”

Jean waved Hermione’s question off, her light brown eyes never faltering from Sirius. “That’s quite alright, dear, we can see it plenty from here. So, Sirius, what do you do for work? Hermione hadn’t mentioned.”

Hermine’s eyes narrowed at her mum in suspicion. For someone who had been pestering to see the flat, she couldn’t seem to care any less now that she was in it.

“Well, I’m in the process of opening up a motorbike shop and if all goes according to plan, it should be ready in a couple months. I closed on the space just last week.” Sirius shrugged slightly, fidgeting in place as if uncomfortable with the attention. “Actually, I had a potential employee stop by the shop today and interview to be a mechanic.”

With a gasp, she looked up at Sirius and fought the urge to hug him. “Sirius! Did you really? How did it go?”

A smile pulled at his lips. “Good. I hired Marshall on the spot. I don’t exactly have any business yet but I think it’d be good to build up a few test bikes for display.”

“Don’t let him minimize his accomplishments,” Hermione insisted with an enthusiastic shake of her head, a hairpin coming loose from the movement. As she spoke, she reached up to secure it again. “Sirius is absolutely _brilliant_. His motorbikes _fly_ ; he’s managed to integrate magic with machinery in a way that no one else has been able to do with success. He single-handedly developed a way to stabilise his motorbikes when they’re airborne which incorporated a bit of theory using the design behind flying broomsticks—”

The growing grin on her mum’s face made her pause.

“It’s really quite revolutionary,” she mumbled, her cheeks burning. “Is anyone thirsty? I can get you something to drink. We have water, tea, wine, juice—”

“We’re fine, thanks, dear. So, Sirius, you build motorbikes,” William repeated, slipping off his spectacles, folding them, and tucking them into his shirt pocket. “What’s your bike of choice?”

Sirius cleared his throat, following Hermione into the living room and settling into the spare armchair. “I ride a restored ‘59 Triumph Bonneville. She’s my pride and joy—the first bike I was able to get off the ground.”

William sat at the end of the sofa in the seat closest to Sirius. He let out a low whistle and his brows lifted, visibly impressed. “ _That_ is a beautiful motorbike.”

“You ride?” Sirius asked, his interest piqued as he leaned forward in his seat.

With a half-shrug, he replied, “I used to, back when I was your age. My pa spent hours out in the garage tinkering on his car every night and taught me while he worked. When I was in uni, I saved up everything I could and bought an old bike, some spare parts, and fixed it up myself.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open, her mind whirling as she tried to imagine her father in anything other than his reliable old station wagon. “What? Dad, you had a motorbike?” She looked to her mum who nodded in confirmation. “Why don't I remember that?”

“He sold it the day I found out I was pregnant with you.” Jean had a small smile on her face as she sat down next to her husband on the sofa, looping her arm through his and clasping their hands together.

“Easiest decision of my life,” William replied, squeezing her mum’s hand gently. His eyes drifted over Hermione’s shoulder and landed on the bookcase, widening in surprise. “Is that a _signed_ Queen album?”

Sirius grinned and hopped out of his seat before retrieving the record from the top shelf where it was on display. It was sitting next to a copy of Robin Smith’s latest book, the very one that she had abandoned after the altercation in the bookshop the day before. When she woke up this morning, it had been sitting on the counter next to a chocolate muffin. She had yet to thank Sirius for it.

“I saw them perform live in Hyde Park, had it signed by the entire band after the show.” He glanced down at the cover before handing it to William.

“When was that?” Jean asked, releasing William’s hand as he accepted the album with a look of awe. “I only thought they performed there once, and that was _far_ before your time.”

“Christmas of ‘78 if I recall correctly,” Sirius mused, shifting so he was standing next to Hermione again.

Jean let out a bark of laughter, her hand shot up to rest on her heart as she took a quick gasping breath. “That’s very funny, Hermione had told me that you were funny. If you don’t mind me asking, when were you born?”

“November of ‘59,” he replied, looking to Hermione for help. “I’m...well, I…”

With a grimace, she explained, “It’s a magic thing. Do you remember me explaining how the Wizarding World works differently with manipulating time?”

“Oh!” Jean exclaimed, throwing her hands up for a moment before dropping them back to her lap. “Is this like that time we had to sign a paper for you to use the necklace for school? The necklace they give to every student in their third year to manage their class schedule?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Sirius give her a curious look. 

“Yes, Mum, _exactly_ like that. Instead of going back a day at a time like I did for classes, he moved twenty years forward into present day. He’s twenty-two.”

A beat of silence passed as her words settled in.

“You’re telling me that you were _actually_ at the Christmas concert in ‘78?” William asked, his tone incredulous as he handed the album back to Sirius.

“Did Freddie proposition me and ask me to join them on their tour?” Sirius returned the record to its spot on the shelf, straightening it carefully so it displayed the signatures.

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione translated, “That’s his way of saying yes.”

William choked out a laugh. “How serendipitous. Jean and I were at the same concert, celebrating the end of the term of our last year of university. I wonder if we saw each other and didn’t even know.”

“Cheers to that, mate—hey, do you want a beer?” Sirius asked, turning towards the kitchen before pausing, waiting for an answer.

“No, Dad doesn’t like beer—”

“A beer sounds marvelous, what do you have?” William interrupted, rising from the sofa to follow him around the corner and into the kitchen. 

Moments later, she could hear them chuckling and the sound of two caps popping off followed by glass clinking together. 

Her mother patted the empty cushion on the sofa and smiled in a way that was too reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat from her favourite childhood book. Shuffling her feet, Hermione joined her on the sofa, plopping down inelegantly next to her. 

“I don’t want to jinx anything—” she lowered her voice and glanced over at the entrance to the kitchen “—but we _love_ him. He’s the best boyfriend you’ve had so far!”

Hermione practically fell over in panic, she waved her hands in front of her and shook her head frantically. “No, Mum! He’s not my boyfriend! I told you that already.”

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Jean tutted under her breath. “I know your generation doesn’t like to ‘put a label’ on things, that’s fine, but either way I just want to tell you that we approve. He’s much better suited for you than that lawyer you dated last year, and you know we loved Ron but you never looked at him like _that_.”

A loud chorus of laughter echoed from the kitchen. She could hear Sirius’ voice. “I thought she was taking the mickey! People really pay you to rip out their teeth? What do you do with them afterwards? Can I see them?”

“Mum!” she sighed, covering her face with her hands before dragging them down her cheeks. “Whatever you do, do _not_ tell Sirius that you think we are together. I will be mortified if he—”

Sirius’ head popped around the corner. “Hey, Starling, did you or your mum want anything?”

“ _Starling_?” Jean repeated, her grin growing even more as she nudged Hermione’s shoulder in an obvious manner. “Well, if that isn’t the sweetest nickname I’ve ever heard. Where did that come from?”

“Don’t embarrass him,” Hermione dismissed, wrinkling her nose at Sirius and trying to hold back the smile that was forming. “My old necklace said ‘sterling’ and he only eighty percent knows how to read.”

With an exaggerated scoff, Sirius corrected her, “Absolutely not. She’s being purposely obtuse. It’s from ancient Egypt, the beautiful queen Starling who led the war that resulted in the building of the High Temple at Saqqara. She was brilliant, ruled with an iron fist, too. Reminded me of our lovely Hermione.”

Hazel and Ollie responded with a chorus of disbelieving hoots from the open window. 

“No one asked you.” Sirius scowled at the judgmental owls who ruffled their feathers and leapt from the windowsill, taking flight into the crisp evening air.

William rounded the corner after Sirius, with a glass bottle in his hand. “How are the ladies doing?”

“We are quite well, thanks for asking. You two can keep chatting, I’m just catching up with Hermione.” Hermione barely suppressed a groan at the obvious look of excitement on her mum’s face.

Nearly a half hour later, Sirius and William reappeared from the kitchen looking chummy and each carrying a bottle of beer in their hands. 

“Did you want to see the flat now?” Hermione asked.

“Actually, dear, we best be going”—Jean stood up and looked between Hermione and Sirius with a sly smile—“I’m sure the two of you have something fun planned and we don’t need to take up your entire night.” 

Just as Hermione stood up, her dad disappeared back into the kitchen and came back without his drink. He shook Sirius’ hand, resting his other hand on Sirius’ shoulder with a broad grin. “It was wonderful to meet you; we’ll have to do this again sometime. I’m taking you up on that offer to see your latest build!”

“You’re welcome by any time, William! I’d love to show you around the shop. I have a few projects in progress already that I think you’d be interested in.”

Joining everyone near the door, Hermione was pulled into a hug by her mum, who gave her a quick wink before they left.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione’s head dropped down before she lifted it back up to meet Sirius’ gaze. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. That was ridiculous, I had next to no notice! It was an ambush.”

“I like your parents. They’re nice people.”

“Can you believe you all were at the exact same concert twenty years ago? What are the odds?”

A knowing smirk danced across his lips. “You know, I was thinking about that, and I happened to do the math.”

“But you _hate_ math.”

“I do.”

“And you still did math?”

“This is the good kind of math, the only kind of math I enjoy,” he amended with a wag of his finger. “Guess what event happened approximately nine months following the Christmas concert of 1978?”

Quickly running through the months in her head, she put the pieces together, her mouth dropped open.

“According to my calculations, it would appear that _someone_ was conceived at a Queen concert.”

She gasped. “Spite math.”

“Anything for you, darling.” He grinned, taking her hand and guiding her behind him as he climbed out the window and up the fire escape to the roof. A rush of heat fell over her and she knew he had cast a silent warming charm to shield them from the biting November air.

“You know, it’s going to start snowing soon and we won’t be able to come sit up on the roof anymore,” she remarked, balancing herself as they stepped onto the angled rooftop and sat in their usual spot on the edge.

Sirius looked unimpressed as he shrugged. “We have magic; we can clear the snow and put it back when we’re done. I don’t think I’m ready to give it up yet.”

“Thank you for tonight, Sirius.” She swung her legs slightly as they hung over the edge, her hands fiddling in her lap. “I swear they told me they were coming to see the flat, but I think it was obvious they came just to meet you.”

“An ambush,” he repeated her earlier words with a sparkle of mischief in his eye. “It’s alright, I didn’t mind. I don’t know why I would’ve expected anything different, but your parents seem wonderful. You’re lucky.”

“I feel lucky, in more than one way. The first year in the Wizarding World was...overwhelming to say the least. There was so much I didn’t know or understand, and it seemed like everyone else was already twenty steps ahead of me before we even started. Meeting Harry and Ron was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I mean, the Potters have always treated me like family, and Lily understood most everything I was going through since she was Muggleborn as well.”

A wistful smile crossed Sirius’ face as he listened to her reminisce. 

She worried her lip between her teeth as she considered her next words carefully. “What were your parents like?”

“I…” he sighed, closing his eyes with a pained expression. “I’m not drunk enough for this. I hardly had a sip tonight with your dad.”

Before she could talk herself out of it, she reached for his hand and took it in hers. “You don’t need to be drunk to talk about your family.”

He gave her a pointed look. “No, _you_ don’t have to be drunk to talk about _your_ family. _I_ need more alcohol than it takes to feed a herd of Abraxans for a week.”

She felt her expression fall and his hand squeezed hers in a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t…” His voice faltered and he glanced up at the night sky, clear of any clouds. “I never had”—he gestured vaguely in the air with his free hand—“ _this_. I never had parents who cared about me outside of how my image affected the family.”

“That’s awful, Sirius. I’m so sorry.”

The small smile on his face was anything but happy. “I had this idiotic fantasy when I was a kid, imagining some great adventure like I was switched at birth or stolen as a child. I thought one day my real family would come and save me. ”

Tears pricked at her eyes, imagining a young Sirius in dark and dusty Grimmauld Place, all alone. 

He gave a sort of dry chuckle. “I suppose in the end that’s what happened, anyway. Remus and James _are_ my real family. I left home at sixteen and the Potters took me in. Gods, I was fucked up at first. I didn’t think that parents could actually _be_ like the Potters. I thought…well, let’s just say it took a long time before I trusted them.”

“What about your brother?” she asked, her thumb brushing soft circles onto his hand. “You never talk about Regulus; the only story I’ve ever heard was about the birthday cake.”

“He was the son that they’d always wanted me to be. He was sorted into Slytherin, believed in their blood purity bullshit, hated the right people, the whole bit. It wasn’t all bad, not before I left for Hogwarts. I think the pressure from our parents got to him after I was sorted into Gryffindor. He was stuck at home with them while I was safe at school, and I guarantee they wanted to make sure not to raise the same mistake twice.”

Hermione could’ve sworn he shifted closer and she could feel the calloused pads of his fingers as he held her hand. 

His eyes glazed over as he continued, “The summer before Hogwarts—the last decent memory I have with them—we went to visit my uncle at his home in Italy. Reg and I went skinny dipping and snuck out for gelato. We ate so much that he nearly vomited.”

“That sounds like a good memory,” she murmured, the look in his eyes causing a pain in her chest.

“It was a fun night. We ended up stealing Orion’s gold signet ring after he drank a half bottle of whisky. It was ridiculous, but we took turns wearing it and pretending to be the head of the Black family.” Cocking his head slightly, he smirked. “Orion never did get that back. He was fucking furious—the thing was in the family for thousands of years.”

“Did you keep it?”

He scoffed, “Of course I did. That piece of rubbish has caused more problems than it's worth in goblin-forged gold. I had a bad habit of drinking and then wearing the ring. Guess I should be glad I lost it the night I came to in your flat.”

“ _Your_ flat,” she corrected with a soft smile. “Have you spoken to Regulus since you arrived?”

“I don’t care to. We hadn’t had a good conversation in years by the time I disappeared. Not much to talk about now.”

“People can change. You don’t know what the past twenty years have been for him. He was still a child when you left; there’s no way of telling how much he’s grown since then.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Gods. The way you say that, I almost believe it.”

She turned her body to face him more fully, releasing her hold on his hand. He lifted it to cup her cheek; the motion felt as natural as breathing. “Sirius, I mean it. He’s your brother. Isn’t it worth the chance?”

“You know, in the starlight, I swear I can see the little flecks of gold come out in your eyes.”

Her pulse skipped and her eyes drifted down to his lips, thinking of every moment when she should’ve kissed him and didn’t.

“Ever since the day I arrived, you have this way of making me feel like no matter what, everything is going to be alright.”

She looked up to meet his gaze, feeling the gentle drift of the pad of his finger across her cheek, and she held her breath. Without allowing herself a second more of hesitation, she leaned in, closing the space between them. 

Her lips pressed to his, stopping the world around her and sending a rush of pure magic through her veins.

Then the air shifted.

He ripped away from her, his eyes wide with panic, and her stomach sank.

“Fuck—I shouldn’t— _fuck_ , I’m sorry, Hermione.” He jumped up to a standing position, stumbling for a moment before clutching both sides of his head with his hands. He wouldn’t even look at her. “That was a mistake—I have to— _I’m so sorry_.”

Tears of humiliation burned at her eyes, pooling and threatening to spill over. “Sirius—” Her voice broke just as he disappeared over the edge of the roof, back down the fire escape. 

A mistake.

She had misread the signs—missed something—ruined _everything_.

The whistle of the night air filled her ears as she stared up at the brightest star in the sky—Sirius—her heart aching as the tears blurred her vision.


	15. The Quidditch Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand thank yous to everyone who has been reading this story, I've absolutely loved reading every comment and message so far and I can't tell you how much they mean to me!
> 
> I'm posting this author's note as a heads up that I'm not going to be able to reply to comments this week because of NANO (national novel writing month) and will be taking the time I usually use to reply to reviews, to write :) I'll start replying to reviews like normal next week. Thank you and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Hermione looked out at the sea of dark green and gold, watching the crowds cheer as the two Quidditch captains shook hands in the centre of the field before mounting their broomsticks. She spotted a flash of red hair and saw Ginny fly up to her starting position, waiting for the referee to signal to the start of the game.

“The one to Ginny’s right—number two—is Gwenog Jones,” Harry informed her, handing her a warm cup of cocoa. “Remember how Ginny had the poster of her up in the Burrow for years? Apparently you should never meet your idols—she’s a nightmare as a captain, but a damn good Beater.” 

His words became white noise as she glanced over at Sirius; he was standing in a semicircle with Remus, Tonks, and James on the opposite side of the private box. Tonks was telling an animated story with broad gestures, making the three Marauders laugh. 

As if he could feel her eyes on him, Sirius looked up and, before he could catch her staring, she quickly turned back to Harry.

It had taken nearly an hour for Hermione to muster the courage to leave the rooftop and go back to her bedroom the night before, and Sirius hadn’t emerged from his room for the rest of the night. 

She had hardly slept, the memory of the kiss keeping her up all night, tossing and turning in bed.

After a full night of ruminating on every interaction they’d ever shared, her embarrassment was overcome by frustration. In hindsight, she should’ve known better; she knew about his flirtatious reputation and had been a fool to mistake it for actual romantic interest. 

This morning, she woke up and dressed in a pair of denim trousers, a green and gold Harpies shirt that Ginny had gifted her at Christmas, and a pair of curled ribbons for her hair. Following nearly ten minutes of internal debate, she decided to skip breakfast and take the Floo directly to the game rather than wait for Sirius.

The cup of cocoa released steam into the air, and she cradled the cup in her hands, her mind lost in the memory of teaching Sirius how to make the drink, his finger dragging across her lip to brush away the whipped cream. 

This cup was plain cocoa, without a single topping, and for some reason, that made her sad.

“Are you going to tell me why you and Sirius arrived at the game separately this morning? You’ve been attached at the hip for months,” Harry said, blowing gently on his cup of hot chocolate before taking a shallow sip.

“Shouldn’t we be watching your fiancée play instead of gossiping?”

“Can’t a bloke take an interest in his best friend’s love life?” he retorted with a snarky raise of his brows, his tone matter-of-fact.

She scoffed, trying to feign disinterest. “Who said anything about a love life?”

“If it’s this obvious to _me_ of all people, shouldn’t that say something?”

“Are we going to keep alternating between asking each other questions instead of answering anything?”

Harry sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. She balanced her cup in one hand and rested the other on his waist as he relented, “Fine, _you win_. We don’t have to talk about it, but just so you know, I’m here if you decide to start answering questions with something other than a question.”

“Thanks, Harry,” she murmured, fighting the pull to look back over at Sirius. She could feel his presence from across the room and it was impossible to ignore.

A navy blue cluster of seemingly-intoxicated Quidditch fans just below their box began to chant, “Beat back those bludgers, boys, and chuck that quaffle here!” repeating the phrasing as they swayed back and forth.

“Oy! None of that here!” Ron called out as he stepped through the door into the box, carrying two massive containers of popcorn. He was wearing dark green from head to toe, his face painted with green and gold stripes and a hat with an eerie talon perched on his head. “Just you wait, the Harpies are going to kick Puddlemere’s arse!”

“Ronald! Language! Teddy is here,” Hermione gasped, shooting a pointed look over at the oblivious three-year-old who was currently playing with a miniature set of Quidditch players.

Ron gave her a wide grin and the talon on his head waved its claws. “Hey ‘Mione, hey Harry. What did I miss?”

“Nothing yet.” Harry let his arm drop from her shoulders and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the nearest bucket. “The game just started.”

“Popcorn!” Teddy dropped his toys and ran to Ron with open arms.

“ _And uncle Ron_ ,” he grumbled as he passed a container to the hyperactive toddler. 

Hermione watched as Teddy held it carefully—arms wrapped around the bucket—and waddled back to the other side of the box to his parents, leaving a trail of popcorn in his wake. She snorted at his serious expression, intently focused on the task of distributing snacks to the adults in the room. “You do realise that was a bad idea, right? There’s about a fifty percent chance that he’s going to drop that entire container.”

Ron shrugged, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth and chewing enthusiastically. “Probably the same odds as Harry dropping it after a few of those Butterbeers that Remus brought.”

“Ginny Weasley—executing a perfect Porskoff Ploy—and yes! A goal! Ten points for the Holyhead Harpies!” the announcer’s voice rumbled through the pitch and the stands erupted in screams of delight around them.

“Did you have to wear that thing?” Her nose wrinkled as she watched Ron’s talon do a celebratory jig on his hat. 

He gave her a lopsided grin and tilted his hat closer to her, teasing her with the talon. “I absolutely did have to wear this! I’ll have you know that it’s a lucky hat. Every time I wear it, they win!” The talon wiggled a single toe at her.

With a squeal, she jumped behind Harry, a laugh bubbling up as she tried to sacrifice him to the talon in her place. The hair on the back of her neck prickled and her gaze drifted across the room; she saw Sirius’ sharp silver eyes on Ron, his face passive aside from a tic in his jaw. He didn’t seem to be listening to a thing Remus was saying.

James placed a kiss on Lily’s cheek before slipping into the space next to Ron and Harry.

“That was a great shot by Ginny,” James remarked, exchanging Harry’s cup of cocoa with a glass bottle of Butterbeer. “Puddlemere doesn’t stand a chance.”

Raising the bottle up in cheers, Harry took a drink.

“You’re welcome,” Ron added with a smug puff of his chest.

“Ron, it’s not your hat,” Harry insisted, his feet shuffling in place as he turned his head and watched the players fly by. “Gin and Angelina Johnson spent every weekend for a month trying to perfect that manoeuvre. I thought they were going to kill each other by the end of it.”

“You say that _now_ , but you don’t want to see what will happen if I take it off.” Ron tapped his index finger against his hat before shoving more popcorn into his mouth. “I’m holding this team together.”

James’ brows pulled together as he looked curiously at the talon, waiting for it to do something. “What sort of hat is it?”

Stifling a laugh behind her hand, Hermione quietly explained, “Ron’s convinced his possessed hat is a good luck charm for the Harpies.”

“Ah, I know all about that superstition.” He glanced over his shoulder and waved his hand once, beckoning Sirius over to the group. “Pads had a hideous scarf that he insisted on wearing to every single one of my games at Hogwarts. According to him, every time he wore the scarf, we won the game.”

She felt her heart jump into her throat as Sirius made his way over to them.

“Woosh!” Teddy made a sputtering noise with his lips as he flew one of his miniature Quidditch players around the room, a tiny toy bludger zooming after him. “My-Meeeee, come play!”

Seizing the opportunity, Hermione gave James a quick smile and slipped away from the group just as Sirius reached them. She set her cup down and selected a Quidditch player from the pile on the table before chasing after Teddy, carefully avoiding any eye contact with her flatmate. 

An hour into the game, the Harpies led 160 to 100, with the Seekers hot on the tail of the Snitch.

Following her playtime with Teddy and a quick chat with Tonks, she had taken a seat at the front corner of the box, using her Omnioculars to have a better view of the game.

“Mind if I join you?” Ron asked, looking at the empty seat next to Hermione with a hopeful smile.

“Of course I don’t mind. I feel like we’ve hardly spoken today.”

His brows disappeared behind his fringe as he sat down next to her. “Only today? ‘Mione, I feel like I don’t know anything about your life anymore. I didn’t even know you were living with Sirius prior to your birthday.”

“It was just…” She struggled to find the words. “After everything with Cormac last year, I thought it was best for us to take a moment to breathe.”

“It’s been quite a long moment.”

She could see the strain around his eyes. “Ron, I know it’s been a challenging time, adjusting to everything that happened between us, but I want you to know that you’ll always be one of my best friends. I want us to be us again.”

“Us.” His lips twisted to the side. “I miss us. I’m sorry, ‘Mione. I’ve been a real prat recently.”

Her head shook, the green and gold ribbons in her hair bouncing with the motion. “No, it’s not just you. I’m equally to blame. I should’ve written, I should’ve Flooed in for a visit...I suppose I was avoiding the conversation.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “ _You_ were avoiding it? I left the country for a year.”

Picking at her nails in an anxious fashion, she felt her shoulders slouch forward. “I’m sorry it ended how it did.”

“Me too. I’m trying, I promise. I want to be happy for you. It’s just…” His lips pressed down into a frown, his eyes crinkled downwards in the corners. “I always thought it’d be us, you know?”

“Ron, even before we dated, I loved you.” She placed her hand on top of his and squeezed it once. “And I _still_ love you.” His lips parted to speak, but she continued softly, “But it’s never been the kind of love that you deserve.”

His fingers threaded through hers and he lifted her hand up to his lips, closing his eyes as he placed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand and made her chest ache.

“I want you to tell me about your life again, the good days and the bad. I hate feeling like I don’t know my best friend anymore. What’s going on in the life of Ron Weasley? What is it like living in Belgium?”

He had a nervous expression on his face that she instantly recognised. “Ronald! Who is she?”

“Who is who?” He scratched the back of his neck and tried to avoid eye contact.

“You may be an Auror, but you’ll never fool me. I know you too well, and I know that look.”

The corner of his lips curved up slightly. “Well…there is this witch at work—I don’t know, it’s probably nothing.”

A smile bloomed on her face and she gasped, “You have to tell me all about her.”

“She’s an Auror on my team, top of the field and bloody intimidating—I suppose I have a type.” He winked, drawing a laugh from Hermione. “I’m not even sure she’s interested, plus we aren’t exactly allowed to date coworkers.”

“But you’re due to leave Belgium in a month's time,” she reminded him with a pointed look, releasing her hold on his hand. “Which means that rule will no longer apply.”

He ducked his chin, the tips of his ears growing pink. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll save the invitation for a last night in Belgium drink.”

She swatted at him playfully. “You’d better. I’m going to hold you to that.” Settling back in her seat, she sighed, “I love seeing that smile on your face again.”

“I know I’m not really good with words, but I want you to know that I’m happy for you, too.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, I hope he knows that he’s a lucky bloke to have you.”

“Oh.” Blinking rapidly, she tried to prevent the tears that threatened to blur her vision.

“Hey,” he said in a low voice, pulling her closer until his broad arms wrapped around her. “It’s okay. What’s going on?”

Over Ron’s shoulder, she made eye contact with Sirius, who was watching their embrace with a wearied expression, gazing for a long moment before his throat bobbed with a swallow. The look on his face made her chest hurt, and she whispered, “I just missed you.”

“I’m moving home soon. We should celebrate by going to The Three Broomsticks with Harry. We can get Butterbeers and annoy Madam Rosmerta, like old times.” 

He pulled back to look at her reaction and she gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’d love that.”

Just then, the floor began to rumble as the cheers from the crowd grew into a loud roar. Hermione looked out to the pitch just in time to see the Harpies’ Seeker close her fingers around the glittering golden Snitch.

“And the Holyhead Harpies have won the game!” the announcer declared, his voice echoing throughout the stands, amplified by magic.

“All thanks be to the hat.” Hermione grinned, her gaze flicking up to the dancing talon.

“I’ve done my brotherly duty.”

A wobbling Teddy flew behind them, hovering inches above the ground on a toy broom. “Mummy! Daddy! Look! I’m flying!”

Tonks, whose hair was styled into a green pixie cut, clapped for Teddy as he turned and made a loop around the room. “Oh, my little Quidditch star!” She looped her arm around Remus’ and leaned her head on his shoulder as they watched their son.

“He gets that from you,” Remus pressed a kiss to Tonks’ temple.

Her hair turned a shade of bubblegum pink and she squeezed his arm once. “I know. If he had inherited his balance from you, he would be on the floor by now.”

“Watch out, Seeus!”

“You know, this reminds me of when I bought Harry his first broom,” Sirius remarked to James, stepping out of Teddy’s path as he floated past them at a turtle’s pace.

“Not the same,” James gave him a look of amused disbelief. “Harry was a year old! The kid could barely walk.”

“He didn’t need to _walk_ to be able to fly.”

“Lily was not pleased.” James laughed, the sound light and carefree. “I suppose in hindsight we should’ve been glad you didn’t take him out on your motorbike.”

Sirius clapped a hand on James’ shoulder. “Of course not. That was reserved for his _second_ birthday.”

Teddy turned the handle of the broomstick in the direction of Hermione. “My-Me, did you see me fly?”

The delight in his expression made her smile; she rose from her seat and stood next to Teddy. “I did! Wow! Keep practicing and you’re going to be out there one day, just like Aunt Ginny.”

“Do you want to try?” He gripped the front of the broom with his small hands and tried unsuccessfully to stop.

Harry chuckled, stepping in front of the broom and helping Teddy come to a halt. “Good luck with that. Aunt Hermione is scared of flying.”

“Oh.” His little voice grew sad. “It’s okay. I can help you.”

“It’s nothing personal. _No one_ could convince her to fly.” Harry lifted him off the broom and set him back down on the floor. “Trust me, many have tried and none have succeeded.”

Sirius coughed—loudly—standing beside Remus just a few feet away.

“Remember that time in sixth year when we tried to bribe her to get onto your Firebolt?” Ron snickered. “I’d never seen her literally turn and _run_ away before.”

“It’s her singlemost athletic moment from school,” Harry quipped.

An impish look glinted in Ron’s eye as he teased, “I bet she pulled a muscle.”

With a roll of her eyes, she tossed Ron a look of disapproval. “You offering to do my Charms homework is hardly what I would consider a _bribe_. That was my second favourite subject.”

“Alright, children, the game is over and it’s time to go home. I’m sure Harry wants to go congratulate his fiancée, Teddy needs a nap, and Sirius has a bet to collect on,” James announced, waving his wand and clearing the rubbish from around the room. 

Glass bottles and littered popcorn flew through the air and into the large bin in the corner of the room. 

“Ron needs a nap too,” Hermione added, making a face at Ron, “and someone should feed him real food. I think all he’s had to eat today is popcorn.”

“Popcorn _is_ real food! It’s corn and corn is a vegetable.” Ron huffed. “I’ll have you know that I also had Butterbeer, therefore it was a balanced breakfast.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Sirius lingering at the back of the room.

Everyone began to clear from the box, and Hermione made her way to the front to grab her Omnioculars.

Sirius cleared his throat in a bid to catch her attention.

Without looking up, she shoved the Omnioculars into her purse and clasped it shut. “Shouldn’t you be off collecting your winnings now?”

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice tight.

Pulling the bag strap over her shoulder, she turned to face him and raised her brows expectantly, struggling to keep her expression neutral. “About?”

He flinched.

Just then, Teddy ran up and hugged her leg. “Bye My-Me!” He turned and hugged Sirius’s leg next. “Bye Seeus!”

Even as he ruffled Teddy’s hair, Sirius didn’t look away from Hermione.

Teddy ran and took his mum’s hand, letting her guide him through the doorway after Remus. 

They were the last two left in the room, which suddenly felt smaller than it had all day. She bit the inside of her cheek, watching as his rib cage expanded with a deep breath. 

Tucking a hand in his pocket, Sirius looked at her, his silver eyes piercing her soul. “That was a...good game.” 

“Sure was. If that’s all—” She turned to leave but he jolted forward, catching her arm.

She stared down at his hand, the calluses on his fingertips brushing against her sensitive skin, his long slender fingers wrapping completely around her wrist.

He dropped his hand before muttering, “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that,” she replied dryly. Her hands gripped the strap of her bag until her knuckles turned white. “Multiple times.”

“I didn’t—”

“—I get it, Sirius, I do. You don’t have to explain anything.” She cut him off, closing her eyes so she didn’t have to look at him anymore, didn’t have to feel that relentless _ache_ gnawing at her insides. “It was a _mistake_ , right? It meant nothing, it was nothing, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“It meant nothing,” he echoed her words in a quiet monotone and despite herself, she opened her eyes. 

It sounded even worse coming from his lips.

“Can we just…” It almost sounded like there was a tremble to his inhale, but it was probably just a trick of the wind. “Go back to before? Like last night never happened?”

For a brief yet horrifying moment, she thought that she might cry. 

It was an impossible ask; everything about that moment haunted her—the look in his eyes, the feel of his lips, his hand on her cheek. 

She could never go back to before.

Managing a quick nod, she answered, “Did I read Robin Smith’s new book last night in one sitting?” 

The ghost of a smile pulled at Sirius’ lips, but it looked anything but happy. “And what did you think? Was it everything you’d hoped it would be?”

She thought of the book, sitting on the shelf in the living room, unopened and unread.

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue as she replied, “It was the best one yet.”


	16. A Date

Despite Sirius’ words, nothing felt like it had before.

After their talk at the Quidditch match, a sort of numbness settled over Hermione and the feeling followed her through the week. She replayed the night in her mind over and over again, trying to pinpoint the exact moment everything had turned to shit.

She felt off-balance without their shared routine. He had taken to spending the evenings in his shop, working on his motorbikes until late hours, and she started picking up breakfast on her way to the Ministry rather than eating with him. 

A feeling of tension lingered in the flat, an unspoken question drifting through the air between them.

Just before lunch, a neatly folded paper airplane flew into her office with a note addressed to her. She opened the paper and scanned the contents.

_Hermione,_

_Free for lunch with your favourite Potter at half twelve? I could really go for some sushi_ — _my treat._

_-James_

After quickly scribbling a reply, she tapped the paper and sent it back to James’ office on the second floor. 

Twenty minutes later, she found herself sitting alone at a small round table in the sushi restaurant down the street from the Ministry. James came rushing through the door and over to her table in the back corner of the room. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late. Hope you weren’t waiting too long. Hansen caught me on the way out and wanted to talk about the third quarter budget.”

“I know how much you love discussing budgets,” she teased, playing with the straw in her glass. “Bureaucracy at its finest.”

“Don’t tell Padfoot what I’ve become. He might stage an intervention,” James quipped, unbuttoning his suit jacket and slipping into the empty seat across from her.

In lieu of a response, she took a long sip of her water. Even though several days had passed since the kiss, James didn’t seem to know about it. If Sirius hadn’t mentioned it, she wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.

“Speaking of Sirius—” He was cut off by the waiter delivering their plates of food. She felt her pulse quicken beneath her skin at the mention of her flatmate.

“I ordered you the Spicy Tuna Roll,” she explained, snapping the wooden chopsticks and rubbing them against each other to remove splinters. “Hope that was alright.”

James cocked his head and grinned. “Am I really that predictable in my old age?”

“Perhaps we just eat too much sushi together.”

“Impossible.”

She scrunched her nose and tapped her chopsticks together at him before picking up a piece of her Rainbow Roll and popping it in her mouth.

“Speaking of Sirius,” he started again.

“Were we? I don’t believe we were.”

He tossed her an exasperated look. “We were. I just wanted to ask how you two have got along as flatmates.”

Chewing slowly, she pondered all the ways to answer that question. She swallowed thickly and shrugged. “He’s been a better flatmate than I thought he would be, given the stories I’d heard from you and Remus. I’ve never had to bother him to clean up after himself or go to bed at a reasonable hour like I used to have to with Lavender or Parvati in school.”

“That’s good news at least. I know he and Remus used to have arguments when they first started living together. It took a while for them to figure out their living arrangement, and thank Merlin they did because they nearly killed each other in the first month.” He dipped his sushi in a side of soy sauce. “I had to spend an entire weekend moderating their debates, and they argued through every rule to the flat that we never had to deal with in the dorms at Hogwarts. No dishes in the sink, no toothpaste left on the counter, no witches when Remus was home and they couldn’t stay overnight,” he listed before taking a bite.

His comment caught her off guard and she suddenly found herself wondering if Sirius had been bringing home women while she was at work, adhering to the old rules that he and Remus had created and sending them away before she returned. Her stomach turned at the thought and she completely lost her appetite, a sour taste filling her mouth. 

“I’m glad he hasn’t regressed; I was worried he’d fall back into that post-Hogwarts bachelor life. I know the two of you seem to get along well and Sirius is the best friend that I’ve ever had,” James sighed, his shoulders weighed down. “It’s just...he’s had a rough go at life so far, even before the time jump. It takes a lot for him to open up to anyone and I don’t want you to think that his tough exterior is anything personal against you.”

“He’s been a good flatmate, James.” She dabbed a bit of wasabi onto her roll and focused on spreading it carefully. “You don’t need to worry.”

He took a drink and set down the glass with a heavy thud. “All his jokes and his teasing, it’s part of who he is but it’s also a defence mechanism. He’s been hurt a _lot_ , Hermione, and he doesn’t really let anyone in. He doesn’t trust easily, if ever.”

“Why would he agree to live with me in the first place then? I was a complete stranger.”

“He’s already lost one family and he would do anything to keep the one he has now.” Pressing his lips into a thin line, James drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Remus and I are his family...and for a very long time it was just the three of us. He said if you’re family for us then that’s good enough for him.”

She nodded, picking at the grain of the chopstick as she listened.

“And he’d never admit it, but more than anything else in this world, he’s afraid of being alone again.”

* * *

Hermione made her way back into the office with an unsettled feeling in her chest.

“Granger!”

She kept walking, fighting back a smile and listening to the quickening footsteps behind her.

“Hey, Granger.” Theo sounded breathless, slipping into the space beside her and matching her pace. 

“Hi, Theodore,” she replied with a sidelong glance. He had a strange look on his face, was paler than usual, and kept fidgeting. “Everything okay?”

He nodded a little too quickly and she gestured for him to follow her into her office. 

Brow furrowing in concern, she asked, “What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing.” He paused before hastily amending, “I mean, nothing bad. It’s—well, I know it's completely last minute and you probably have plans because it’s _tomorrow at nine_ but I’ve found myself with an extra ticket to the Medusas concert and I distinctly recall that entire week during the Wendall case prep where you hummed that one song—”

“— _Accio My Heart_.” She grinned widely, recalling the way Theo had rolled his eyes but still tapped his foot when it came on during their work sessions.

“For the entire week,” he finished, his lips curving up into a smile. “I was thinking no one else would deserve the extra ticket more. That is, if you don’t mind going with me.”

The offer was tempting; Hermione was quite certain she’d do just about anything to be out of the flat this weekend. “You sure there’s no one else you’d rather go with?”

As he shook his head, something flickered in his hazel eyes. “Sadly, Karen was all booked up for the weekend. Something about attending a gargoyle lookalike competition...”

“I’ve heard about that! She’s a three year champion—I can’t wait to see if she can hold the title.”

He gave a mockingly sighed in disappointment. “What bad timing that the competition overlapped with the same time I found myself in need of a date.”

Her breath caught.

 _Oh_. _A date._

After nearly a week of silence from Sirius, she didn’t know where they stood. It annoyed her that even considering a date with someone else felt like she was betraying him. 

“If you don’t mind your second choice,” she teased.

“Granger, I don’t think you’re anyone’s second choice.” He gave her an easy smile. “I’ll send the details and pick you up at eight.”

As Theo turned to leave her office, her eye caught on the _Daily Prophet_ that had been delivered that morning. A flashing headline in black ink read **_Missing Black Heir Returned_** , with an image of Sirius at the Quidditch match the previous Sunday.

She flipped the newspaper facedown and settled into her seat, trying to decide what she should wear for her night out with Theo.

* * *

Even though she’d had several boyfriends in her life, Hermione didn’t have much experience with first dates. Her boyfriends had all been _friends_ before they were _boyfriends_ , and though she’d spent time with Theo at work, she had never seen him socially before. She went through her entire closet and ended up hating everything she’d ever purchased because nothing seemed to work. 

It all felt _wrong_.

One frantic message later, delivered by Hazel—who was quite annoyed at having been woken up from her mid-day nap—Ginny met Hermione in Diagon Alley. She hadn’t pried about Theo, though it was obvious she wanted to. Instead, she helped Hermione pick out an outfit that she felt confident in. Ginny had spent half an hour trying to convince her to wear heels with a cushioning charm, but she refused; even with all the charms in the world, she’d never liked wearing heels.

Theo was everything that Hermione would’ve asked for on paper. He was tall, confident, kind, snarky, intelligent, ridiculously handsome, and paid attention to the little things that she liked. They both worked at the Ministry, they had some overlapping friends, and she’d heard from Harry that he was making his way up through the DMLE.

She told herself that she could be happy with Theo.

Hermione checked the time and realised she had less than ten minutes until he would arrive to pick her up. She rushed through the Floo, carrying a few bags stuffed with tissue paper, and nearly crashed right into Sirius who had hopped up from his seat the second she appeared.

“Hermione!” His voice sounded a little too cheery as he quickly scanned her, taking in her frazzled appearance and the bags in her hands. “Okay, I took the liberty of stopping by the Buster while you were out—”

“Still not the Buster,” she interjected with a raise of her finger, the bags knocking against each other as she lifted her arm.

“—and I rented...” He prompted her with a wave of his hand, ignoring the growing look of discomfort on her face. “Can I get a drumroll, please?”

“Sirius—”

He scoffed in mock exasperation and leaned over the coffee table, providing his own drumroll by tapping his fingers on the wood. “ _The Matrix_! Also, I have no idea what it is but the bloke at the Buster was saying it’s rather popular.”

With the way his words were rushing out, it was like he was trying desperately to pretend that everything was normal between them, like it was just a normal Saturday—

“Oh god, it’s Saturday,” she muttered to herself, spotting a large bowl of popcorn and a film on the countertop.

“Very good. Next we can go over colours and numbers,” he quipped, but his smile fell flat.

She grimaced. “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot.” She rocked back onto her heels. “I already have plans for tonight. I only found out about them yesterday and I was so distracted getting ready that I forgot all about film night.”

His shoulders visibly deflated at her words and he blinked before giving a small shake of his head. “Oh. Of course you do. I didn’t even ask. I mean, I’m quite busy myself—I was thinking of going over to bother James or Remus. Or maybe I’ll spend some time with Teddy. Can you believe he’s three and has never set anything on fire? It’s a disgrace. I had set several buildings on fire by his age.”

“I’ll only be gone maybe three or four hours. We can watch the film after?” The offer felt feeble and she hated how guilt seeped into her.

“That’s alright.” He shrugged off her proposal with a smile plastered on his cheeks. “Three or four hours is quite a long time. What are your big plans?”

She hesitated before answering, “I’m going to see the Medusas. They’re a band that I’ve adored for years. My colleague from the Ministry happened to have an extra ticket and asked if I could fill the spot tonight.”

Sirius’ head cocked ever so slightly and his voice sounded strained. “A _colleague_?”

“He’s the one who was with me when I found the dragon. We were in the same year at Hogwarts but didn’t talk much until we started working together last year.”

He remained silent for just a beat too long. “When is he coming over?” Sirius asked, the expression on his face unreadable.

She glanced at the clock which was going by too quickly. “Any minute, actually. I have to get ready first. Do you mind if I…” Her words trailed off as she eyed down the hall towards her bedroom.

“Sure, go ahead,” he insisted, eyeing her bags with newfound interest. “I’ll keep myself busy.”

Just then, the Floo activated, signalling that someone would come through.

Hermione’s eyes shot open. “Shit, he’s early! I’ll be right back.” She turned over her shoulder as she hurried down the hall and asked, “Can you keep him busy for a minute?”

“Of course. I’d love to chat up your _date_ ,” Sirius muttered under his breath in a biting tone, turning to the fireplace as a rush of green flame appeared.

With panicked haste, she stripped, pulled on her dress and matching flats, pinned back part of her curls and checked herself in the mirror before making her way down the hall back to the living room. 

She saw Theo Nott standing across from Sirius, who looked like he was staring her date down. Theo was wearing a pair of navy blue trousers, a white button up with the sleeves rolled up just enough to show the muscles in his forearms, and a brown leather belt paired with freshly polished dragonhide shoes. His hair was exactly as she’d seen it at work, neatly styled up and off to the side, held in place with what she assumed was some sort of hair potion.

Though Sirius was tall, Theo Nott was taller.

The corner of Sirius’ lip twitched and his shoulders straightened as he stared at the other man. Hermione stopped in place and observed the interaction from the hall.

“Who the fuck are you?” Sirius asked unimpressed, visibly trying not to look up at Theo.

Theo looked confused at best, and after a moment, he extended a hand to Sirius. “Theo Nott. It’s nice to meet you.”

Staring at the hand, Sirius replied, “I’ve already met a Theodore Nott.”

“That would be my father, Theodore Nott Sr.” His hand dropped and he tucked it in his pocket instead.

“Tell me, Theo Nott _Junior_ ,” Sirius emphasised the title. “Is your father still a pureblood elitist arsehole?”

Theo choked out a startled laugh, covering it quickly with a cough. “Absolutely.”

“You realise Starling is Muggleborn, right?”

“Who is—”

Hermione took the opportunity to rush into the living room, as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping. She felt Sirius’ eyes travel down her body, taking in the emerald green tea length dress she had purchased. His gaze bored into her bare back, heating her skin.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, Theo,” she apologised, smoothing the skirt of her dress in a nervous manner.

Sirius’ jaw flexed as he watched their interaction.

“That’s quite alright, I was just meeting…” Theo’s eyes met Sirius’ with a curious expression. “Actually, I didn’t get your name.”

Wanting to get this uncomfortable interaction over with as quickly as possible, Hermione gestured quickly between them. “Theo, this is Sirius Black. Sirius, this is Theodore Nott—”

“ _Junior,_ ” Sirius snarked, barely audible.

“Okay, introductions are clearly done. We are going to be late, yes?” Hermione turned to Theo expectantly.

When he smiled, Theo’s eyes lit up, and her guilt amplified tenfold. “Yes, we probably should leave soon. Are you ready?”

“I am, just give me one second,” She quickly searched the room, finding her purse tucked between the sofa cushions. “Ah-hah!” she exclaimed. “Now I am.”

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably when she noticed Sirius’ eyes fixed on Theo with an odd expression.

“I’ll see you after the show?” she asked, her voice ticking upwards at the end of her question. 

Sirius nodded and looked away.

The weight on her chest increased. 

Theo led her into the fireplace, his hand resting on the small of her back as he dropped the Floo Powder. Hermione saw Sirius’ eyes catch on Theo’s hand placement just as they disappeared behind the flames.

“You look lovely.”

She felt her cheeks heat at the compliment. “Thank you. You do too—I mean—”

His laugh was deep and she felt her blush grow. “What did he mean by ‘Starling’?” he enquired, amusement dancing on his lips.

Hermione could not stop the grin that spread over her cheeks. “Sirius gave me the nickname after I started a campaign in South America to fund the education of underprivileged starlings.”

His face scrunched in confusion at her blatant lie. “The _education—_ ”

“Oh wow!” She stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide as she turned her head to take in the scenery around them. “Theo, are you seeing what I’m seeing? This venue is beyond incredible!” 

The gardens were filled with flowers and plants of all colours, creating a rainbow of every pigment imaginable. A stage hovered in the centre, surrounded by stadium-style seating. Candles floated throughout the seats, filling the night air with light. A warming charm fell over them, fending off the November chill.

“Was that for me?” Theo asked, a flirtatious smirk tugged at his lips as he directed her down the aisle and towards their seats.

“Was what for you?”

“The green.” His eyes drifted down to her dress as he added, “Is someone embracing her inner Slytherin?”

With a roll of her eyes, she answered, “Slytherin doesn’t have a _monopoly_ on the colour green.”

“How very Gryffindor of you to say.”

They continued to pass rows of seats and she frowned. “How far up are we sitting? We’re almost to the stage.”

“Almost there...” His fingertips grazed her back as they walked. “Here we are.”

The seats had to have been the best in the house. “Theo, how did you get these tickets again?”

His shrug was noncommittal as they took their seats in front of the stage. “When you have a family name like mine, you receive all types of invitations to parties and events.”

She hummed thoughtfully, wondering if Sirius had ever received offers like this one. She tried to imagine Sirius pushed into a suit, grumbling as he tugged on it uncomfortably and muttered about aristocratic arseholes. The mental image made her giggle.

“What are you laughing at?” Theo asked in a teasing tone.

Hermione faltered, adjusting her skirt and crossing her legs at the ankles. “I was just thinking to myself. Sorry, I’m all yours tonight.”

“All mine?” he echoed with a broad grin, a dimple appearing in his cheek.

“I just meant—”

“I know what you meant,” he assured her softly. “I was just taking the mickey.”

There was movement at the front of the stage, dragging their attention away from each other.

The music began.

Nearly an hour into the concert, Hermione found her mind drifting from the melody. She wondered absentmindedly if Sirius would like the music; it was rather calming. He had mentioned attending the Queen concert—perhaps he had been to many concerts. She'd hardly asked about his life before her.

She thought back to the film that he had picked out for their night together. The week had felt so off she hadn’t even considered that he would want to keep their standing Saturday night plans. Still, nagging guilt stabbed at her when she remembered his expression when she left with Theo. 

It annoyed her; she couldn’t be expected to give up every Saturday night to spend time with Sirius.. 

“Hey,” Theo whispered, leaning closer to her with a faint smile, “I heard they’re going to play _Accio my Heart_ tonight. Am I going to get a repeat performance from work?”

She tossed him a look of faux exasperation. “If only you’d be so lucky.”

“I don’t know, Hermione, I’m feeling pretty lucky tonight,” he replied, his gaze lingering on her face before he turned back to the stage. 

The air hummed between them.

Her mind drifted along with the melody, remembering the morning she had made breakfast and Sirius had caught her singing. The way he had watched her with that look that made her heart leap in her chest.

“...twist at the end?”

Pulled out of her thoughts, she turned her attention back to Theo. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I missed part of that question.”

“Bit distracted tonight?” The smile he gave he was lacking its usual spark. “I was just asking for your opinion on the latest _Curse-Breakers;_ you’re the only one I know who is more invested in the series than me.”

“Oh.” She blinked in surprise, thinking back to the unopened book on her shelf. Sirius had gone back out to purchase it for her after they’d left early because of Cormac. He was always so thoughtful, surprising her with things he knew she liked or wanted. 

But, right now, she couldn’t remember if she’d ever thanked him for it or not.

“I, for one, was not expecting the big twist at the end. What did you think of it?”

With a grimace, she whispered back, “I haven’t read it yet. I’ve been a bit busy since it came out.”

The next song ended and the crowd erupted in applause.

“I’m glad that there are people in the world who can sing like that”—he nodded towards the stage—“so that we can enjoy their music. I’d never be able to create anything like this. I won’t be forming a band any time soon.”

“No skill in the didgeridoo?” she quipped before thinking.

He cocked a brow at her. “What is a didgeridoo?”

“It’s...never mind.” She shook her head and turned back to the stage, fiddling with her hands in her lap.

Her heart hammered against her chest, matching the quick rhythm of the drums.

In quick succession, a series of truths crossed through her mind.

One, she was in the best seat in the house, watching her favourite band, in a stunning venue with a handsome man at her side.

Two, she had spent nearly her entire night on a date with someone else thinking about Sirius Black.

Three, she would rather be at home in her pyjamas, sipping cocoa with too many toppings, tossing popcorn around at ridiculous moments, and listening to Sirius’ horrid American accent impression than sit in a magical floating stadium with anyone else.

Theo may have had everything she wanted on paper, but there was something that couldn’t be captured in a list of qualities, something that she had already found in someone else. 

The music swelled, filling her lungs as it danced across the air in front of her.

Even if it hurt, she wanted to be with Sirius tonight, and all Saturday nights for as long as he would have her.

Hopefully he hadn’t returned the film.

“Theo?” she whispered, unable to wait a moment longer. “I—I’m so sorry, I have to go.”

His eyes looked sad as he gave her a knowing smile. “Going home to Sirius?”

Hermione fought the flutter in her stomach from the sound of his name. “Theo, I—”

“It’s okay, I understand. Typical Slytherin, right? I waited too long in fear of what could go wrong that I missed out on what could’ve gone right if I’d only tried.” His lips twisted to the side. “He’s a lucky bastard. I hope he knows that.”

A few minutes later, her flats pattered against the cobblestone path that snaked through the gardens, her pace increasing with each step. 

She felt a rush of exhilaration flow through her as she considered her next move. All she wanted was to buy a big container of vanilla ice cream and snuggle up with Sirius under the fluffy blue blanket they kept around for film nights. 

Even if James was correct and Sirius didn’t let people in, she still wanted to try, still wanted to be there for him. 

He deserved to be loved.

She thought back to the moment where his lips had teased against hers so softly, for the fraction of a second before he pulled away. She had to tell him that no, she couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened as if it meant nothing when really it meant _everything._

With determination, she gave a quick smile to the nearby attendant at the entrance of the gardens before tossing Floo Powder into the fireplace. “Orenda Way.”

Kicking off her flats, she dropped her handbag on the end table and heard a pair of footsteps around the corner in the kitchen. 

“Sirius?” Wild anticipation thrummed in her chest. “I had—” 

She tripped over something on the floor, quickly catching herself. 

“What—” The words died on her lips and an icy knot formed in her stomach as her eyes froze on the pair of red heels on the floor in front of her.

A thousand thoughts flew through her mind and James’ words echoed on a harsh loop. 

_No witches when Remus was home._

Maybe Sirius really had been following the same rule—no witches when Hermione was in the flat.

“Need any help finding the wine?” She heard the door to the loo open and Sirius’ voice bounced down the hall. 

Her breath caught as the soft footsteps in the kitchen grew closer.

Clearly, Sirius had not spent his night waiting around for her to come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you all don't hate me (the angst kills me too!) I have a fluffy smutty Christmas oneshot for Sirimione posting sometime this month with the Marauders Advent 2020 fest! They're released one at a time starting December 1 so I'm not sure when mine is posting yet but if you follow me you'll receive an email for it :)
> 
> As always, thanks for all of your comments/kudos/subscriptions and you're the best readers ever!


	17. A Nice Brunch

The air left the room and Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat. Blood pounded in her ears as everything seemed to slow around her.

“What’s taking so—” Sirius stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Hermione, the colour draining from his face.

Just then, a beautiful blonde woman stepped out of the kitchen holding an unopened bottle of wine—Hermione’s favourite, the one Sirius bought for her—in one hand and two glasses in the other. As she sauntered out, her hips swayed with every step and she was smiling brightly. 

The witch had on a little black dress reminiscent of one that Lavender used to wear for third dates, the ones where she wanted to end up out of the dress at the end of the night. It was tight in all the right places, and just short enough to tease her upper thighs. Her long blonde hair was tossed over her shoulder.

“Oh!” the woman shrieked, bringing her hand to her chest and causing the two glasses to clink against each other. “You surprised me! Sirius said his flatmate wouldn’t be back for hours. I’m Cassidy.”

His flatmate. She felt the words stab at her soul. 

Of course, because that was what she was.

His flatmate.

Her mind short-circuited and she forgot every word in the English language.

“Hermione,” Sirius finally spoke, shattering the silence between them. He was still frozen in place, not blinking, looking like he wasn’t breathing, and she could see a vein pulsing in his neck. “You’re back early.”

In the presence of _Cassidy_ , she was no longer his Starling, but just plain Hermione.

Just moments before, she had been prepared to rush into his arms and declare her feelings like a woman in a romance novel, and all the while he was home with another witch. 

Her stomach wrenched, her supper threatening to make a second appearance.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Sirius’ voice was sharp with concern as he looked her over. He was fixed in place with only his eyes moving, and if she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought she saw a flicker of fear cross over them.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your night,” she mumbled. Perhaps she only thought it; she couldn’t tell which. “I’m just going to bed.” 

She was horrified at the way her lower lip quivered and she ducked her chin against her chest as she brushed past Sirius, hurrying quickly to her room.

“Hermi—” 

Her door slammed and cut off the rest of his sentence.

She retrieved her wand and cast a Silencing Charm on the room; the last thing she wanted was to hear anything going on between Sirius and Cassidy. 

In fact, the very thought made her ill. 

Memories of walking in on Cormac in bed with a blonde witch flooded her mind. When Cormac had cheated, she was consumed with frustration and rage that she hadn’t seen the signs, as if she should’ve known better. But that felt like nothing compared to this—to the thought of Sirius with another witch. And _this_ felt even worse because she knew she had no right to feel the way she felt in this moment.

He hadn’t wanted her but he wanted someone else, and that broke her heart.

With a flick of her wand, she cast a locking charm, completing it mere seconds before the horrified sob escaped her lips. Her back pressed against her door as she slid down to the ground and balled her hands into fists, pressing them against her closed eyes. 

Fiery embarrassment burned at her chest and she wanted to push away the mental images of what was going on in the room next to her, just on the other side of the shared wall, more than anything. 

She dropped her fists and stared at the wall between their rooms until her vision blurred with tears.

After spending the evening with another man, wishing that she was in the flat with Sirius the whole time, she now found herself desperately longing to be anywhere but here.

She hadn’t cried over anyone—not even Cormac—since she was sixteen and heard from Parvati that Ron and Lavender were caught snogging in an alcove. A sense of dread washed over her and all she could think about was how she needed to _leave_.

It was suffocating here.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she closed her eyes and thought of Harry’s flat, feeling the familiar squeeze of Apparition surround her. When she opened her eyes, she was standing in their living room in front of a large photograph of Ginny and Harry grinning on a loop. Hermione recognised the image from their recent engagement photos. Ginny’s arms were wrapped around Harry and her heirloom emerald sparkled in the light as she tossed her head back with a carefree laugh. 

The sound of something falling to the floor followed by a loud expletive came from up the upper level of the flat. She heard footsteps above her and the floorboards creaked with every step. 

“Gods, Hermione, you scared the hell out of me. What’s going on?” Harry hurried down the stairs to meet her in the living room. He was wearing pyjamas, and from his messy bedhead, it looked like he had been woken up by her arrival.

She opened her mouth to explain but all that came out was the sob she’d been holding back.

Harry’s expression fell as he muttered something under his breath and pulled her into a hug. Her arms looped around him as she buried her face into his well-worn shirt. 

“I’m so stupid, Harry.” Her voice muffled against his shoulder and she felt his grip tighten.

“Do you want to talk about it yet?”

With a shake of her head, she finally released her hold on him. As she pulled away, she saw that she’d left a smear of black mascara on his shirt. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to remove the smudged eye makeup, and from the look on Harry’s face, she was only making it worse. 

His hand slipped into his pocket and he muttered a quick spell that she knew he had learned from Ginny before tucking his wand away. She dabbed her fingertips around her now makeup-free eyes and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Are you staying the night? You can borrow some clothes from me or Gin.” He glanced down at her dress. “Even with your transfiguration skills, I don’t think it would be as comfortable as a regular pair of loungers.”

She clutched the fabric of her skirt into her fists before dropping it with a sigh. “I suppose you’re right. I just…” Her voice trembled and she sighed. “I can’t go home tonight, Harry. I can’t be there right now.”

The wooden floors squeaked as Ginny descended the stairs in a fury. “Alright. Who do I need to kill?”

Hermione choked out a laugh, smiling despite the empty ache in her chest. “Hello to you too.”

“We spent all afternoon picking that dress out and you’re not supposed to be home for at least another hour. What happened?” Ginny’s anger was replaced with concern as her gaze caught on the line of tears that had fallen down Hermione’s cheeks.

“He...there was a—he had a—” Her lips trembled as she tried to find the words.

She looked at Hermione with a silent question, and Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “ _Oh_. Oh, Hermione, I’m so sorry.”

With quick eyes darting between the friends, his brow furrowed. “Wait—what? What did I miss?”

“I’ve developed a new technique with my Bat-Bogey Hex, if you’re interested. It’s not fixed with the standard counter-curse.” Ginny sounded nonchalant but Hermione knew it was a real offer.

The corner of her lips twitched. “I don’t want you to hurt him.”

“It’d be for _her_. Just say the word. In the meantime, you can stay here as long as you want,” Ginny assured her. “We have plenty of space.”

“I…” She let out a heavy sigh and felt her shoulders sink with the exhale. “I just need tonight. You two can go back to bed, honestly. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“That’s alright. We weren’t sleeping,” Harry dismissed with a shrug. Hermione’s eyes drifted back up to his hair, taking in his flushed cheeks and the mischievous look on Ginny’s face.

“Gross.” Hermione shook the thought out of her head. “Didn’t need to know that. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Looking like she wanted to argue, Ginny hesitated before conceding, “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Ginny gave Hermione a quick hug before heading up to bed.

Moments later, Harry returned with a pair of his loungers and a Harpies shirt in that soft, stretchy material Hermione loved so much, handing them to her before heading back up the stairs.

Hermione changed into the clothing just in time for Harry to come back down with a stack of blankets and pillows.

“I don’t need that many, Harry,” she grimaced, spreading a single blanket over the magically enlarged sofa. “One will do.”

“Maybe for you, but I have grown accustomed to Ginny’s habit of cocooning herself in a thousand blankets in bed.”

“What—” Her heart swelled as she watched Harry fold his glasses and place them on the end table beside the sofa. He settled into one of the armchairs, kicking his feet up and swaddling himself under a pile of blankets before closing his eyes. “Harry…”

He opened a single eye to look at her. “Yes?”

She wanted to tell him that he could go back upstairs, that she was old enough that she didn’t need her brother to sleep by her side after a bad night anymore. But instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat and whispered, “Thanks for staying with me.”

“Anything for you.”

* * *

Morning came too soon. Just after dawn, she woke with a start, thinking she was having a nightmare. But she soon realised it had actually been a memory of the night before. It took a moment to adjust to her surroundings, and she heard Harry snoring softly in the armchair next to her.

She shifted to a sitting position, flexing her bare toes on the soft carpet below her. Beside her, Harry stirred and his blanket slid to the floor. “Hey.” His voice was thick with fatigue and it hit Hermione all at once just how much he had grown up since their childhood.

“Morning.” She tried to smile but her heart wasn’t in it. “How did you sleep? That didn’t look very comfortable.”

“It was shit, but better than sharing a bed with you. You kick.”

Her nose scrunched as she laughed. “And you snore.”

Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes and asked, “Are you coming with us to brunch?”

“I…” She hesitated. The prospect of seeing Sirius post-shag made her nauseated. Her stomach turned as she imagined his already shaggy hair even messier, his lips swollen and red, his chest and neck filled with love bites from—

“You don’t have to,” Harry interrupted her thoughts. 

“If I don’t go, you know that everyone will ask questions.”

Even more than her desire to avoid Sirius, she wanted to keep her feelings for him hidden from her second family. She didn’t want to deal with the stilted conversations and sympathetic looks if they found out that she had fallen for someone who didn’t want her, and it would be even worse because it was Sirius. 

Harry’s green eyes were filled with worry, and it pierced through her. “What did he do, Hermione?” 

Ginny came barreling down the stairs, saving Hermione from having to answer. “I thought I heard voices! Good morning!”

“Morning! We just woke up. Are you ready to go to the Potters?” Hermione asked, noting that Ginny was already dressed for her day.

Blinking in surprise, Ginny nodded. “You sure you want to—”

“Great!” Hermione hopped to a standing position and used her wand to fold the blankets into a neat pile on the sofa, purposefully ignoring the uneasy look that Harry and Ginny exchanged. “Let’s go.”

“Are you...wearing that?” Harry cocked a brow, taking in her disheveled appearance.

“I mean,” she sighed, looking down at herself and mentally debating, “I don’t want to go back to the flat. Could I borrow a pair of denims? I promise I’ll return them tomorrow and remove any sizing spells.” 

Following a quick raid of Ginny’s wardrobe, Hermione adjusted the clothing as best she could and followed the reluctant pair through the Floo into the Potter’s Cottage.

She felt hyper aware of her surroundings, waiting for Sirius to appear and give her that pitying look that she was so dreading.

They had woken up earlier than usual and breakfast wasn’t ready yet. Hermione trailed behind Harry and Ginny, feeling her anxiety compounding with each step. Instead of following them into the dining room, she made her way into the kitchen—the room least likely to contain a Sirius Black—where Lily and Remus were preparing food.

“Good morning, Hermione,” Lily greeted her warmly, brushing her hands on her apron, leaving traces of flour on the checkered fabric before embracing her.

“Go Harpies!” Teddy waved his arms at her, giving her an excited grin just before his little fingers dug into the bowl next to him, spooning chocolate pudding directly into his mouth. His legs hung over the edge of the counter as he sat next to Remus’ station.

“What?” She followed Teddy’s line of sight to the borrowed shirt she was still wearing and smiled weakly. “Oh, yeah. Go Harpies.”

Hermione could smell the tray of cinnamon rolls baking into the oven. When she heard the ticking of the timer, a fresh wave of nostalgia washed over her; she was transported back to summers at the Potter’s, watching Lily make her baked goods by hand without magic. She always told them that there was something added to a homemade treat that couldn’t be replicated by making it with magic. 

Lily’s eyes twinkled as she folded her arms and leaned back against the countertop. “A little birdie told me that you were going to a concert last night with someone from the DMLE.” 

Pinching her eyes shut, Hermione groaned. “How did James find out?”

“It’s his job.” Remus tossed her a grin, making quick work of dicing up fruit and dumping them into a large bowl to his left.

“That’s _not_ his job.”

“So? The concert?” Lily prompted, taking the bowl of pudding away from Teddy who pouted and rubbed his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, spreading the chocolate along the cuff.

“We went to the Floating Gardens and god, it was pure magic! The flowers were something Professor Sprout would die for and the Medusas were even better in person than I’d ever thought they would be. The seats were in the perfect spot, I could see everything on the stage,” Hermione gushed. “Theo had amazing seats.”

Remus looked up from his task of cleaning off Teddy, his brows raised. “Theo?”

“My _coworker_ ,” Hermione emphasised, “who so kindly had an extra ticket and offered to let me go with him.” 

“Isn’t that how James used to try to get you to go on dates with him, Lily?” Remus teased, popping a strawberry from the nearby bowl into his mouth.

Lily smiled fondly at the memory. “One time, he tried convincing me that he had exclusive tickets to the Ravenclaw and Slytherin Quidditch match during fifth year and he insisted that he had an extra ticket with no one to bring. I had a great deal of fun explaining to him that there were no tickets to school matches.”

The pair laughed at the recollection but it made Hermione frown. Perhaps there had been a bit more to the night than she had thought. Theo did remember how she took her coffee in the morning.

Pulled back into the conversation, Hermione waved them off. “It wasn’t like that, just a fun night between colleagues.”

The timer went off and Lily tugged on a red oven mitt before sliding the tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls out of the oven and setting them to cool on a nearby plate. “Whatever you say, dear. I just won’t be surprised if we hear more about this Theo fellow.”

“She’s too young for a Theo fellow,” Remus objected as he picked up Teddy and set him on the ground. Teddy sprinted out of the room. “She can date when she’s forty.”

There was a soft buzzing sound over by Remus that kept distracting her from the conversation.

Lily made a noise of disagreement, piping icing onto the steaming pastries. “Forty? Even _you_ didn’t wait that long.”

Remus handed the bowl of fruit to Hermione and picked up a platter of eggs and sausage, following Lily’s lead of transferring breakfast into the dining room. The table was already set and Ginny and Tonks were talking while Harry entertained Teddy with a story.

Placing the bowl in an empty gap on the table top, Hermione took the seat next to Ginny with a small smile. 

Remus placed a kiss on Tonks’ cheek and Hermione heard the vibration sound that she had heard earlier in the kitchen go off again. With a sigh, he retrieved a mobile from his pocket. A wrinkle appeared as he frowned at it, his eyes flicked up to Hermione and back to the screen before he typed out a reply.

“And Gwenog has had us run extra drills ever since the win against Puddlemere. Her competitive streak is really coming out lately.” Ginny made a face as she lowered her voice, “Speaking of, she’s seeing Oliver Wood—did you know that?”

Tonks gasped, her eyes filled with mirth. “Oh my god, star-crossed lovers from rival teams. _I love it_.”

“They were having a row during the game over a call and then I caught them making up in the showers after,” Ginny added.

“Circe, that’s so hot. I’ve been trying to talk Remus into some role-playing and—” 

Hermione frantically waved her hands in front of herself and cut Tonks off. “Oh my god—please don’t—we’re about to eat.”

“We are all adults here,” Tonks replied, looking unfazed. “Speaking of, how was your night? Anything to write home about?”

“No! No, I would like to repeat Hermione’s earlier words—we are about to eat,” Remus grumbled, looking green. He turned back to his slow typing on his phone, one button at a time.

Lily filled a small plate for Teddy and placed it in front of his seat.

“How does everyone know about my dat—my _night_?”

With a smirk, Tonks answered, “Easy, Theo mentioned it to Finnigan, who still is on James’ shit list, so Finnigan told James who told Lily who told me.”

“A bunch of gossips, all of you,” Hermione grumbled, eyeing the plate of cinnamon rolls.

With a grin, Harry piped in, “You love us.”

With a final push to his mobile, Remus tucked it back into his pocket.

Her heart leapt into her throat when she heard the Floo go off in the next room, followed by James and Sirius’ muffled voices.

Remus stood up from his seat rather abruptly and disappeared out the door, following the sound of the conversation between his best mates. One of the voices raised and then everything went quiet, indicating a Silencing Charm had been placed over the room. 

She winced, hoping to god they weren’t talking about what she thought they were talking about. 

After a few minutes, the three men stepped into the dining room.

The conversation at the table sounded like white noise in her ears when Sirius’ silver eyes instantly found hers. He looped around the table and took his usual seat next to Hermione as if it were just a normal Sunday. She stared intently at her fork, finding sudden interest in the cutlery. 

“You left.” Sirius’ voice was low and sounded accusatory.

“Did I?” she asked, twisting the utensil in her hand and tapping the tines with her fingertip. 

His chest deflated with a sharp exhale. “Why—”

Ginny leaned over Hermione and thrust a full plate of cinnamon rolls at Sirius. “Fresh from the oven, want one?”

“No, thank you.” Sirius looked irritated as he swatted away the plate and turned to face Hermione more fully. “Hermione—”

“How was everyone’s week?” Ginny asked loudly, cutting off Sirius as she tapped her finger to her chin and put the plate back on the table. “I’m still sore from practice. Anyone else have a fun week? Teddy?”

“I met a dragon!” Teddy roared, throwing both arms up, and Tonks nudged his plate back in front of him, handing him his fork.

With a fake gasp of enthusiasm, Hermione asked, “What kind of dragon?”

“She was a nice dragon,” Teddy answered with a serious expression, his little brow furrowed as he tried to spear a grape with his fork and it kept rolling away with each attempt.

“Teddy told Ron about his love of dragons at the game and he arranged for Charlie to introduce him to a Welsh Green at the reserve,” Tonks explained, dumping a pile of sausages onto her plate before passing the container to James. 

James accepted it and passed the dish to Lily without taking anything from it. “So, what did I miss?”

“My-me had a date,” Teddy replied.

Levitating the coffee pot across the table and pouring some into his mug, James added, “I hope Theo was a gentleman last night. If he wasn’t, I know where he works.”

She heard Sirius aggressively half-snort at the word ‘gentleman’.

“James! You can’t use your position in the Ministry to threaten Theo,” Hermione scolded, glaring at him from across the table. “That’s not very funny.”

“That’s the least he could do to that fucking arsehole,” Sirius muttered, a little too loudly.

Eyes widening, Hermione finally turned to Sirius and exclaimed, “Sirius! Language! Teddy can hear you.”

For the first time, she noticed the shadow under his eyes and the strain in his expression. He was still wearing the same clothing she saw him in last night, only now there were deep wrinkles pressed into the fabric.

“Don’t _fucking_ care,” Sirius practically growled. “Why are you defending him? He’s a fuc—”

Remus sounded exhausted as he interrupted, “Sirius, stop. It’s not the time.”

“What?” Sirius snapped, glaring over at Remus. “Prongs is the one who brought it up and now _I’m_ not allowed to talk about it? Why am I the only one who _fucking_ cares?”

Her hands balled into fists and somewhere in the back of her mind she registered the pain of her nails digging into her palm. She wanted to yell at him, to say that having sex with someone in the room next to her was a million times worse than her maybe date with Theo and he had _no right_ to be so upset after the way he rejected her.

Nothing made sense—Sirius looked furious in a way she’d only seen once before and she couldn’t stop staring at his clothing and wondering why he had the same outfit on if Cassidy had taken it off of him or why he hadn’t even changed before coming over for brunch and—

James stood up abruptly, his palms slamming on the table and making everyone fall silent. “That’s it! I thought we’d have a nice brunch before we did this but apparently not.”

With a long drawn-out sigh, Remus pushed away his full plate and rose from his seat. “Hermione, Sirius, come on. In the office.”

After a beat of deliberation, Hermione groaned and followed behind Sirius. She shoved at his shoulder. “Really, Sirius? What is _wrong_ with you?”

In the light of the hallway she could see a redness lining his eyes. “Well, I’m glad you asked. First of all, you silenced your door and left without a single word and I was up waiting for you all night and—”

“Oh—so sorry to inconvenience you,” she hissed, unable to hold back the hurt building in her chest. “I had thought you’d be a bit too _preoccupied_ to even notice I was gone.”

Remus opened the door and pointed into the room. “In. Now.”


	18. All Swept Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am so sorry for not replying to comments this past week! There were so many fantastic theories and questions and I knew I would spoil the plot if I tried to write responses.
> 
> I absolutely loved reading every comment (read them all multiple times!) I swear I have the best readers in the fandom and you guys made me want to happy cry at all of your excitement for this story! A million and one thank yous for every comment/kudo and I hope you enjoy this update

One by one, they filed into James’ office and Remus closed the door behind them. Hermione took the leather chair in front of the desk, the one she had sat in hundreds of times over her life. James used to lend her the family books and journals, and she would lay in that seat, her feet dangling over the edge as she read. He would sit across from her and scribble notes on his parchment. Over the years, she went to him for advice about what classes to sign up for in school or her career in the Ministry. Now it felt like she had been called to the Headmaster’s office for a scolding.

“I don’t—” Heat spread from her neck to her face, and it felt like there was a heavy weight on her chest. 

She shot a glare in Sirius’ direction but he was looking anywhere but at her. His jaw worked as he stared over her shoulder, his expression a mix between furious, exhausted, and something she couldn’t place. 

In hindsight, she realised it was ridiculous to think that anything between them had stayed between them. Sirius must have told James and Remus everything—the three were brothers. She imagined that he sent them an owl after Hermione ran away to hide in her room like a petulant child. They probably shared a bottle of whisky and talked about how she was falling all over Sirius like a schoolgirl, pitying her for mistaking his flirting for anything real.

She was mortified at the thought.

“I don’t understand why this requires a formal discussion. I’m perfectly capable of handling it on my own,” she muttered, picking at the seam of the armrest, tracing the crease carefully with her index finger. 

Remus took the seat next to her while James sat behind the desk, and Sirius continued to stand.

With a soft smile, James sighed. “First of all, Hermione, I know from my training at the DMLE that this is a sensitive subject and I tried to tell Sirius that pressuring you to talk about it before you’re comfortable is a terrible idea.”

Sirius grumbled something unintelligible behind them.

“He wasn’t going to calm down until we talked and I hoped we could at least get through brunch first.” James carded a hand through his messy hair. “I just want to start out by saying that if you’re not ready, we don’t have to talk about last night.”

Before she could answer and run out of the room, Remus’ eyes softened and crinkled in the corners, he added, “And we want you to know that we believe you, anything you have to say. You did nothing to deserve whatever happened and we are here to listen and help in any way we can.”

She frowned, looking between the three Marauders with compounding confusion. “Wait...what are you talking about?”

This whole family meeting made no sense; why would they pull her into James’ office to talk to her about this in front of Sirius?

“You don’t have to say anything, Starling, but James won’t give me his fucking address. I can find it—maybe I can figure it out on that Internet you keep talking about.”

“Pads, you’re not helping.” James’ shoulders dropped and he gave Sirius a look that felt more like a warning. “I already told you that I can’t give away employee information like that. We can’t act without an official report and testimony.”

“I don’t…” As she tried to follow the conversation, her head spun. “What? Whose address? What testimony?”

Remus raised a hand. “Sirius, calm down. We haven’t even heard Hermione’s side. You can’t just go gallivanting off to defend her honour without having the whole story.”

Her _honour_?

Hermione looked between James and Sirius, trying to decipher their expressions.

“I know that you’re a brilliant and powerful witch.” Remus’ voice was soft but strained, the same way it sounded whenever he was particularly emotional. “And we just want to let you know that this sort of thing can happen to anyone, regardless of who they are. We have zero judgement towards you. We just want to be able to support you in any way we can.”

Her mind pieced it together like a Rubik’s cube, the words twisting and turning as they clicked into place.

“Moony, I don’t get why we’re wasting time harassing Hermione! She’s been through enough as it is.” A flash of something dark crossed Sirius’ face. “Meanwhile, that fucker is out there with an intact face and functioning lungs.” 

White noise filled her ears and she nearly laughed.

They thought she had been upset because of _Theo_.

“What?” Her throat felt impossibly dry. “This is about Theo?”

“What did he do to you? You were—” Sirius stopped as he stepped closer, lowering his voice to a gravelly whisper “—if he’s anything like his arsehole father—” She saw a hollow sort of pain behind his eyes, like helplessness masked as anger and his hand clenched into a fist. “I just _knew_ there was something off about him when he came to the flat. I should’ve said something, done _something_. This is all my fault.”

“I—” she retracted in her seat, stunned. It took her a moment to collect herself and finally speak. “He didn’t _do_ anything. Theo was a great date—I mean, it wasn’t quite a date, but he was a great escort. A perfect gentleman. Didn’t step a toe out of line. I swear.”

“You don’t have to lie for him—”

Remus interjected before Sirius could continue. “We were just worried when we heard that you came home hours early and Sirius said you looked upset—”

“More than _upset_ ,” Sirius growled, his voice rumbling in his chest and a vein twitching on his temple. “It’s not like you to act like that, to look like—”

“—and we assumed the worst because we are protective of you,” Remus explained softly. “But we believe you.”

“You know we are always here for you, Hermione,” James added. “If anything like that ever happened, I hope you know that no one would suspect a string of murders by a random stag.”

“And James would have been with us the entire time,” Remus continued with a nod. “Completely coincidental but just an absolutely solid alibi.”

Sirius stood off to the side, silently fuming.

“I appreciate the concern. Honestly, I do, but I’m _fine_ ,” she insisted, the lie slipped off her tongue so convincingly she nearly believed it herself. “There’s nothing to be worried about. I just didn’t feel well and came home early to sleep. I took a potion and it helped.”

“Are you feeling better?” Remus instinctively leaned forward and pressed his hand against her forehead. “You are a little warm…” he said, his voice filled with concern.

“I think I’ll just go back to the flat and take a nap. I should be back to normal before work tomorrow.”

“You can always call in ill,” James offered, nudging his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. “Take the day off and stay home with Sirius.”

“No!” Hermione objected a little too quickly, wincing at the prospect. “I just mean, I don’t want to miss work. I’m positive I’ll feel better by tomorrow. In fact, I should probably go lie down again. It’s been an eventful morning.”

The three marauders stared at her for a moment, collectively deciding whether or not to believe her.

“Okay, but I just made a large batch of soup on Friday. It’s pumpkin—your favourite. I’ll go grab a container for you to have for supper tonight,” James insisted, leaving the room before she could argue.

The study filled with a less than comfortable silence.

James appeared a moment later with his arms full of food. “Lily,” he offered as explanation when he handed her multiple bags.

“Thank you. I promise that if I ever do have an disrespectful date, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I would like to reiterate that with James as Head of the DMLE, we have connections,” Remus teased, but somehow she doubted he was truly joking. “Not a single body would be found.”

Dropping a quick kiss to both James’ and Remus’ cheek, she practically ran to the fireplace, barely holding back a groan when Sirius slipped in, as well.

The flat appeared in front of her and she stepped through, carrying the bags in one hand as she made her way into the kitchen. 

“You don’t have to lie, not to me.” Sirius broke the silence and trailed after her. “You don’t have to cover for him. Moony and Prongs didn’t see the look on your face last night.”

Opening the fridge, she pushed aside the leftovers and takeaway on the top shelf, making room for the hoard of food Lily and James had given her. 

“And?”

“And,” he continued, his voice laced with annoyance, “you shouldn’t protect that prick. If he came through that fireplace after you, he wouldn’t be walking right now. There wouldn’t be enough Skele-Gro in the world.”

She closed her eyes in frustration, her head still in the fridge as she rearranged a stack of glass containers.

“If he had done anything, I would have told you, okay? Please don’t go attacking poor Theo because he doesn’t deserve it.”

“Then why did you look so sad?” he asked, the words pitifully quiet. “You wouldn’t have left the flat if you were just ill. You know I would’ve taken care of you.”

Her stomach fell, just like it did at the peak of a rollercoaster just before the drop.

She slammed the door to the fridge before turning to face him.

“I’m okay—don’t worry about it. I’m not your problem to fix,” she snarked before being able to stop herself. “You have your own witch to worry about and I’m not her.”

Turning on her heel, she quickened her pace to her room and tried to steady her breath. After a prolonged silence, she heard his footsteps rushing after her. 

As her panic grew, she felt her pulse thrumming in her veins, and heard the sound of static filling her ears.

“Hermione, stop.” He sounded breathless as he crossed the threshold into her room, just barely slipping in before she could close the door. “Why are you—I don’t understand. Help me understand.”

“God, this is so _humiliating_.”

His face contorted in confusion and his mouth dropped open as if to say something but nothing came out.

She felt her throat constrict and tears pricked at her eyes. She walked over to the doorway, her arms wrapped around her waist. “I need to find somewhere else to live.” 

“ _What_ ?” His voice raised in sharp panic and he rushed over to her. “You can’t _leave_. Why would you leave?”

“It’s not good for me to live here anymore. I think—no, I _know_ —that I need some space. You own the flat, and we both know my monthly rent is a joke. You could rent it out to someone else and make money to put towards your shop.”

“I don’t need money for my shop,” he insisted, looking frantic as he moved another step closer. “I have plenty. Hermione, Starling—”

“Stop calling me that,” she begged, her tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall. “You’re making this so much worse.”

“Making what—”

“I feel like I’m going mental!” Her voice raised to a shrill pitch, her heart clenching until it was hard to breathe. “Because I thought there was _something_ and it’s just less than nothing; it’s so miniscule you don’t even have a clue what’s going on because it’s so far off your radar.”

“What’s a radar?”

Hermione choked out a sound that was a blend between a laugh and a sob. “It’s a Muggle detection device.”

“What? No, I’ll get a radar then, I’m sure I can find one and you can stay and show me how to use it, just like the telly and my mobile,” he rambled, sounding more rattled than she’d ever heard him, his eyes darting back and forth, cataloguing her face. 

She bit the inside of her cheek, the sting of pain stifled by the tightness in her chest.

“Will you please tell me what I’ve done wrong?” he pleaded. “I think we’ve established that we’re completely out of my depth here.”

“You haven’t _done_ anything,” she answered, the truth twisting into her like a knife. 

Sirius’ brow creased and he ran his hand through his hair, tugging it between his fingers in frustration. “Fuck. I’ve obviously done something. You’ve never—I’ve never—”

“I’ll be out in the morning.”

“No!” Sirius shifted forward again, his chest nearly pressing against hers. “You can’t—” His desperate eyes searched hers. “You can’t _go_. Please, I’ll do anything, please stay.”

She chewed on her lower lip and her arms brushed against Sirius as she tucked them tighter around herself like a security blanket. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered, his voice raw.

“No.” She shook her head, pushing her palms against his chest. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to blame this on me.”

He grabbed her hands; he was just a breath away now. “Remember what I said on the night of your birthday? I promised that I wasn’t going anywhere. Starling, I—”

“I told you to stop calling me that!” She ripped her hands away from his, and her pulse skipped when a look of hurt that flashed over him. “I can’t”—she took a shaky breath before months of emotion poured out of her all at once—“I can’t live with you anymore.”

His throat bobbed, his lips parting to respond, but she cut him off with a raise of her hand.

“I came home early last night because the entire time I was gone the only thing I could think about was you. I came home to tell you that I’d rather spend a night in our home with you than be out anywhere with anyone else. It wasn’t Theo—it was _you_.” Her voice broke on the word and her vision blurred. “I can’t live with you because coming home to find you with another witch broke my heart and it’s _destroying_ me that you’ll never want me like I want you.” 

They stood suspended in time, her confession thickening the air between them.

Something snapped like a string wound too tight, and suddenly his lips were on hers, all-consuming and unrelenting. 

She had never been kissed like this. In fact, she was absolutely certain that no one in the history of the universe had ever been kissed like this. It was as if her lips were his salvation, that they were the only thing grounding him to the earth and, without her touch, he would be forever lost.

With her blood searing through her veins, she returned his kiss with everything she had. He groaned as his fingers twisted into her curls, pulling her flush against him. 

The feeling of his body pressed to hers drew a small whimper from her and a low rumble vibrated from his throat in response. His hands dropped to her arse and he lifted her effortlessly; wrapping her legs around his waist without hesitation, she looped her arms around his neck, needing to touch him with as much of herself as possible.

Taking a step forward, he pinned her against the wall, pushing the breath from her lungs. She couldn’t bring herself to mind; she felt like she needed him more than air. 

Nevertheless, her lips parted in a gasp and he slipped his tongue between them, caressing hers with skill.

His hips ground into her at a tantalizing pace, stoking the fire that grew inside her. Suppressing a wanton moan, she shifted her hips and slotted his erection against her core. 

He never gave her a moment to breathe—to think. It was as if he wanted to consume her before she had the chance to entertain a moment of hesitation. Her head swirled, unable to process the myriad of sensations provoked by his hands wandering across her body, seemingly unable to decide where to settle.

Tangling her fingers in his hair, her breathy whimper was swallowed up and he continued rocking against her, the pressure making her toes curl. Her hands ran up his chest and over his back and shoulders, tracing his muscles over his shirt. 

Finally breaking the kiss, Sirius dipped his head down to her neck, dragging his teeth against her pulse and sucking at the skin below her jaw with intent to bruise. She raised her chin and tilted her head back, exposing her neck for him, daring him to take what he wanted.

His touch intoxicated her and she knew in that moment she would give him anything if he would only ask. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—I’ve always wanted you,” his voice rasped against her throat, sending a cascade of shivers down her spine. “Since the first moment I saw you, I’ve wanted you.”

The words washed over her, dragging her under like a wave, making her pulse throb in her ears.

“But—Cassidy—”

He paused, a look of bewilderment breaking through his lusty haze. “What? No! Gods no, how would you ever think—Hermione, I already told you about her!”

“What?” She frantically tried to think back to any possible mention of her and was coming up blank. “When?”

“The night your parents came over! I told you that I hired Marshall as a second mechanic for the shop.”

She squeezed her eyes shut before opening them. “ _Marshall_?”

“Cassidy Marshall,” he repeated, pressing a heated kiss just under her jawline. “My employee.”

Her mind struggled to keep up with his words. His fingers dug into her arse and she panted, “But she—”

“—had a row with her girlfriend. I ran into them at the bar I went to after you left with _him_ and I had to get out of here. I needed something stronger than fairy wine, and I couldn’t breathe. I kept thinking of you with him. We were commiserating and—” a groan came from low in his throat “—I really am thick.”

Her eyes squeezed shut and she leaned her head back against the wall. “Oh my god.”

“I swear, I didn’t know—I’ve wanted you for so long, all of you. On the roof, when I kissed you, I just—”

“No,” she interrupted, looking back at him, “I distinctly recall that _I_ kissed _you_.”

He choked out an incredulous laugh. “My hand was on your cheek, I _pulled_ you to me, I made you—”

“—I leaned in! You didn’t pull me. I _wanted_ to kiss you.”

His eyes fell back on her lips, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “We can debate the semantics another time. We’re doing entirely too much talking right now.”

A million thoughts and questions flew through her mind but they were all swept away with a press of his lips.

He thrusted upwards, fucking her through their clothes, the friction building deep inside her. She throbbed with need, still sandwiched between him and the wall. With a shuddered gasp, she rolled her hips in time to his movements.

The world felt like it was on fire around them, flames licking at her as his thumb brushed over her covered nipple, drawing it to a peak under her clothing. He continued his attentions on her neck, biting and kissing every inch of exposed skin. His hot breath ghosted against her, teasing her.

A tingling sensation passed over her. Her wards had been triggered and there was someone waiting outside the front door, just outside the boundary. 

They stilled, his lips still pressed to her collarbone. 

She could hear a loud knock on the front door. 

“Just ignore it,” he murmured, and her head rolled back, her eyes closing as she focused on the sinful things his tongue was doing to her.

The knocking grew louder.

He lifted his head and his silver eyes landed on hers, looking for something she couldn’t name. Her breaths came out as soft pants, her lungs grateful for the air as the magnitude of their confessions filled the room around them—words they would never be able to take back, not that she wanted to.

The pounding on the door continued, matching the rhythm of her heartbeat.

Resentfully, Hermione untangled herself from Sirius, her greedy eyes skating over his obvious bulge while she lowered herself to the floor. He let out a low and frustrated groan, dragging his hands down his face. Her body screamed at her to ignore the interruption and unwrap Sirius like a Christmas present.

She had to steady herself as she exited the room, her legs still trembling.

“That better be the bloody Minister of Magic,” he grumbled, following Hermione to the front door.

She glanced back at him as he adjusted himself in his trousers. His lips were red and flushed, his hair a mess from her hands tugging at it, and she could only assume she looked ravished within an inch of her life—she certainly felt it. Her shirt was skewed and she quickly straightened it, not bothering to try to settle her hair. 

“It might be an emergency with my parents.” Worry grew in the pit of her stomach. “No one else comes to the front door.”

The knocking continued so she unlatched the lock and swung the door open.

Standing on the front porch was a middle-aged man with black hair and dark grey eyes, clutching a newspaper in his hands. An image of Sirius at the Quidditch match repeated in a loop on the cover. 

“It’s true,” the man whispered, staring at Sirius in stupefied awe. “I didn’t believe—I thought perhaps—” He swallowed, losing the rest of his sentence.

Sirius tensed beside her.

“I came as soon as I saw you in the paper. I had hoped you might be back at the old flat. I—Sirius, I’m sorry to just drop in but I couldn’t wait. I had to see my brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout out to oh_no_sparrow for figuring out the Cassidy Marshall connection (using only a throwaway comment with the name Marshall and no pronouns from four chapters ago!) I'm beyond impressed with your sluthing skills.
> 
> PS my Sirimione oneshot Mistletoe Mayhem is officially posted :) it's smutty/fluffy/bantery Christmas Sirimone for anyone interested!


	19. The Two Brothers

As Hermione inspected Regulus with new light, it was easy to see similarities between the two brothers—the shape of their cheekbones and sharp jawlines, the matching height, and the way they held themselves. Though it was shorter, she could see a hint of Sirius’ curl in Regulus’ dark hair, and there was the start of grey at his temples. Regulus’ eyes were a shade darker but still shared the telltale silver from the Black family.

She looked to Sirius who wore a hardened stare, his voice sounded cold and emotionless. “I’m not your brother.”

Regulus flinched and his grip on the newspaper tightened. 

“—that’s what you said, right? The last time we talked, you said ‘ _I have no brother_.’”

“Sirius—”

“Fuck off,” he snarled, abruptly slamming the door shut.

For several moments, they stood in complete silence and she looked up at Sirius. He was looking at the place where Regulus had been standing, a blank stare on his face. 

“Twenty years is a long time,” she murmured, breaking the spell. “Maybe you should hear what he has to say?”

“I know what he has to say. He’s the same Pureblood elitist arsehole who thinks Muggles are filth beneath his feet and should be slaves for those with magic. He’s probably here about his inheritance or some other centaurshit. He can have it—I don’t want that hellhole we grew up in.”

A softer, more hesitant-sounding knock tapped at the door.

“He came to see you as soon as he found out you were back, Sirius. Will you give him two minutes? For me?”

She counted the heartbeats as he flexed his fingers against his thigh.

“No one who has had a change of heart should be defined by the worst thing they’ve ever said in a moment of pain,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper.

His hand fell to her cheek, tenderly cupping her jaw as he kissed her. She felt his lips tremble against hers before he pulled away. “Fine, two minutes. But not for him. For you.”

Her fingers glided against his palm as they laced with his; her other hand rested on his bicep and he seemed to soften under her touch. “I’m here.”

Nodding quickly, he let out a long exhale before opening the door. 

Regulus’ eyes were stained red and he looked up from the newspaper in surprise when the door opened. “Please, just hear me out,” he begged with a touch of desperation in his voice. “I’ve waited so long...I never thought I’d get the chance to talk to you again.”

Without reacting, Sirius simply waited for him to continue.

“I’m not the boy I was when you left. I...gods I’ve thought a thousand times of what I would say to you if I had the chance and now I’m all out of words.” He shook his head slowly, still watching Sirius as if he were afraid he would disappear at any moment. With shaky hands, he retrieved a photograph from his pocket and thrust it in front of Sirius. “This is my wife, Mary, and our son, Sirius.”

Hermione felt his hand twitch against hers but his face was stoic. 

The photograph looked like it was recent; a woman with red hair and blue eyes was grinning at the camera, showcasing a carved pumpkin in her hands. She stood next to a young boy with jet black hair and blue eyes, who was holding a smaller pumpkin with a matching expression.

“Will you come over tonight? I have so much to tell you, so much to share with you.” He shoved the photograph back in his pocket and after a moment of strained silence, he added, “You can bring your girlfriend with you if that helps—she’s more than welcome.”

Shifting forward slightly, Sirius put himself in front of her in a protective stance and muttered, “I won’t bring her to Grimmauld Place; it’s not safe for her there.”

Her pulse skipped when she realised Sirius hadn’t corrected him for using the word ‘girlfriend’.

Regulus’ eyes landed on Hermione, as if noticing her for the first time. “She will be safe. I swear on my magic. I spent a small fortune removing all those nasty curses Mother put on the home before Mary moved in.”

Hermione seemed to make the connection before Sirius. 

“Not good enough, I don’t want to take your word for it. What if you missed something? I’d never forgive—”

“Sirius,” she murmured, pulling his attention from Regulus. “He’s saying that Mary is Muggleborn.”

His brow furrowed before he looked to Regulus for confirmation.

“ _American_ Muggleborn, at that.”

Sirius choked out a laugh of disbelief. “ _You_ married an American Muggleborn?”

Regulus nodded, the corner of his lip twitched upward. “I did. They don’t use the word ‘Muggle’ there, Mary calls them ‘No-Majs.’”

“Gods, Walburga must’ve lost it. I wish I’d been there to see it.” There was a touch of elation in Sirius’ voice.

“Believe me, she did, especially because she was practically the one to introduce us. After you disappeared, there was this article in the paper about her supposedly having Muggle ancestors and she was _livid_ but also drowning in damage control around her Pureblood social circles trying to establish her ‘untainted bloodline’. She sent me to the Prophet to intimidate whoever wrote the article and that’s where I met Mary. She changed everything for me.” There was a faint curve of his lips as he told the story. “Funny how life works out.”

Hermione gaped at Regulus, recalling the story of Sirius’ final wish.

“Mary’s convinced the shame killed her, honestly. Mother passed away a few days after the wedding. Don’t worry, though. We still get to hear her spit vitriol when we drag her portrait out of storage every year for half an hour on her birthday.”

With a half shrug, Sirius cocked his head and said, “I’m not sure if you recall, but I am particularly skilled at starting fires, and let’s be honest that the old hag is already burning somewhere anyway. Might as well give the portrait a matching fate.” 

“Oh, I recall,” he laughed, the sound was a low rumble. “You set Father’s hair on fire when you were fifteen. I still remember the way he used to try to style it to hide the patch.”

Turning to Hermione, Sirius added, “It was a special fire, mixed with a little charm of my own creation. Hair tonics didn’t let it grow back. I was quite proud.”

“Will you two come over tonight? Even for an hour?” The hopeful tone in Regulus’ voice made her thumb brush against Sirius’ hand, encouraging him. “Mary and Sirius would love to meet you.”

“We’ll be there,” he promised, returning the gesture on Hermione’s hand. “We can come by around five?”

Regulus drew a deep breath in through his nose and his shoulders sagged partially in relief. “I look forward to it.”

After Regulus disappeared down the steps, Hermione released her hold on Sirius and gently closed the door.

“Are you okay?”

Sirius wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. “Thank you for encouraging me to talk to him. The last night that I saw him, the night before I disappeared… Well, I said some things that I wished I could take back.”

“I’m just so happy that you’re willing to go see him. If you want me with you, I’ll absolutely go to Grimmauld Place so you’re not alone.”

He smiled the smile that he seemed to reserve only for her and it pierced her soul. “Starling, I always want you with me.”

She felt herself melt into his embrace. “I can’t believe how ridiculous the last twenty-four hours have been.”

“And _I_ can’t believe you thought I brought a random witch home to shag just because you’d left the flat.” There was a sharp edge of irritation in his voice as he pulled back to look in her eyes, his hands still resting on her waist. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

Shame washed over her and she grimaced. “I’m so sorry, Sirius. I’ve just heard all the stories from James and Remus about your...it just got into my head that maybe you had women over when I was out of the flat and then I saw Cassidy and assumed the worst.”

“She was fully dressed and in the _kitchen_! It’s not like you found her in my room, and you just assumed—“

“But she was wearing heels,” Hermione interjected, her voice growing smaller and more feeble with each word. “And she had...blonde hair.”

He blinked.

Her lips twisted to the side. “When I say it out loud, it sounds sillier than it felt. It just made me think of Cormac and—”

“Who?”

“Cuntpuddle fuckwit.”

“Oh, _him_.” He let out a sound of disapproval. “Well, you should’ve _talked_ to me. You shouldn’t have just run out—”

“If you thought I brought Theo home to have sex, what would you have done?” she asked, a slight challenge in her tone.

“I would’ve bloody beat the life out of him for thinking he had a chance with my witch,” he replied, sounding absolutely serious. “Half of me wanted to when he showed up but you looked so pretty in your dress, I didn’t want to get his blood on it.”

With a snort, she raised her brows. “So, you’re saying that I should’ve _attacked_ Cassidy?”

“No. You should’ve known that I’d _never_ —gods, I had a single one night stand when I lived with Remus and they acted like I was going to bring home the entire city. Moony fought me about it for weeks and I never did it again. If I’d known they’d told you—”

“Wait,” she cut him off. “Just _one_? They acted like—”

“Like I was out every week with a new witch? Yeah, I’m aware. Both of them have only ever been with their wives and I suppose in comparison it seems a bit crass to bed someone you barely know but honestly, three partners by our age is _hardly_ a significant number.”

_Three?_

She thought through her own list as her mind raced with new information—Ron, Benjamin, Thomas, Cormac...

Her mouth dropped open as she thought through every assumption she’d ever made about Sirius. “But you’re such a flirt! You’re always talking about your Hogwarts days and witches and—”

“Do you shag everyone you go on a date with?” he asked, his brows lifting at the same time as his lips, “or flirt with?”

“Well, no, of course not.”

He gave her a pointed look. 

Leaning forward, she rested her forehead on his chest and mumbled, “How were we so thick?”

“It’s my fault. I don’t...I’m not good with this sort of thing, okay? I like to flirt and it’s fun to tease but I’ve never—it’s never been like this before. I thought I was going to fuck everything up. I fuck up everything good in my life and you—you are the best of all of it.”

She felt his hand nest in her curls and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You wouldn’t have, Sirius. How could you not know that I was interested in you? I thought it was _painfully_ obvious. Did I need a marching band? A sizable tattoo?” 

His laugh vibrated against her and she pulled away, looking up at him with a smile on her face. “Depends on the tattoo. I do love the idea of my name on you.”

“ _Honestly_ , I find it difficult to believe you were that oblivious. I’m always hugging and touching you. I’ve given you kisses on the cheek and we’ve cuddled up on the sofa before—”

“But you do all of that with Harry, James, and Remus on a regular basis. I even saw Ron kissing your hand at the Quidditch match and then you hugged him and he was whispering in your ear!” Sirius let go of her for a brief second to throw his hands up in the air. “I thought you were just an affectionate person with friends and family, and it was my own pathetic wishful thinking that it meant anything more for me.”

Throwing her head back with a groan, she replied, “It’s not the same; surely you can tell those were just platonic touches.”

“If you think that I would’ve been able to make that subtle distinction, then you severely overestimate my ability to think critically around you.”

Wrinkling her nose, she gave him a look of incredulity.

“It’s true—I get tunnel vision around you. I never even thought for a second that the reason you were upset last night was because of Marshall. You left with Wanker and then came home hours early and you looked like you were nearly in tears. It was like living out a nightmare. I know what those Pureblood families are capable of, how they treat those who they think are inferior to them.”

She remembered the way he’d blanched at the sight of her, of the fear she saw in his eyes.

“I thought he hurt you.” Sirius’ voice broke, making her heart crack along with it. “I couldn’t think or move or do anything until I knew you were okay but you left and I thought you were in your room and I sat in the hall outside your door all night in case you needed me,” he blurted out, his hold on her tightening.

The thought of him sleeping outside her door on the hard floor made her want to cry. She stared up at the faint circles under his eyes with a new sense of regret.

“I sent a message to Moony that we were going to miss brunch because I thought you needed more time, and imagine my surprise when he replied that you were already there.” There was a hint of pain in his words and a tight knot formed in her stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, fighting back the tears building in the corners of her eyes. 

His lips pressed firmly to her forehead before he pulled her back against him, tucking her close. “I’m just relieved that you’re okay.”

She let herself sink into his hug, breathing in his scent until it filled her lungs and flooded her senses.

“And I’m sorry too. I thought you knew I liked you months ago.”

Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against his chest and groaned. “ _Months_? Just what made you think I knew?”

“I flirted with you.”

“You flirt with everyone.”

She felt the rumble of his scoff against her, but he still didn’t loosen his hold on her. “I take offence to that, but also, I punched your ex.”

“Maybe you just like punching people.”

He paused for a moment before answering, “Lucky guess, but I kissed you!”

Pulling back just enough to glare up at him, she corrected, “ _I_ kissed you.”

“I absolutely kissed you first, and—”

“And then you ran away and said it was a mistake.”

“No! Well, yes, I just—fuck—I just panicked. I shouldn’t have said it was a mistake, the only mistake was leaving you. The second I left, all I wanted to do was come back but I thought you’d push me off the roof for being such an arse.”

Her voice felt small when she whispered, “But I did want you to kiss me.”

“Then I’ll do it again just to show how sorry I am,” he muttered, cradling her skull with his hands and pressing his lips to hers. “Today and every day after.”

She lost track of time, standing in the middle of their flat and melting into him. The moment was only interrupted by a rather loud growl of her stomach, and she winced as he broke their kiss. 

“We missed out on brunch because of everything and it is far past brunching hours. Should we go grab some fish and chips from down the road?”

Her stomach echoed its approval of the plan. “That sounds divine but we should change first. I borrowed everything I’m wearing right now from Ginny.” Her hands twisted the material of his shirt and she added, “And you absolutely were wearing this last night.”

“In my defence, I had far more important matters to attend to and was too preoccupied to care about a wardrobe.” He still didn’t move or release her.

Hermione let out an easy laugh, nestling herself further into his hold, wanting nothing more than to stay in his arms for just a moment longer.

* * *

“You ready?” Sirius asked, looking over his shoulder at Hermione with a cheeky grin.

Her arms tensed around his torso and she nodded against his back. “I’m ready.”

The petrifying fear that she had felt during their first flight had settled down into a mild bout of nerves in her stomach. He revved the engine and she felt a rush of exhilaration as they lifted into the air.

This flight felt shorter than the last, but she spent less time with her eyes squeezed shut and more time enjoying the view as they traveled across London. Finally, he twisted the handlebars and guided them to a short descent into a nearby suburb.

Without removing their Disillusionment Charm, Sirius parked the bike in an alleyway between the buildings and helped her dismount with a semblance of grace. As they walked towards Grimmauld Place, he lowered his voice and explained, “Walburga and Orion were notoriously anti-Muggle, which increases the irony that the ancestral home ended up surrounded by a Muggle neighborhood. You won’t actually be able to see the place, not right away at least, they have a thousand and one charms on the—”

Hermione nearly tripped when Sirius stopped suddenly and stared up at the nearest home. 

“What’s wrong? Is this not Grimmauld Place?” 

He blinked, and a guarded expression shadowed over him. “It’s...it is, it just doesn’t look much like I remember.”

The strip of houses looked positively ordinary to her. They were covered with grey and white brick, spanning as far as she could see. There were potted plants and trees spattered between the houses and on porches, wind chimes and other decorations were displayed in windows which made each uniform home look unique. On the building directly in front of them, she saw a large white number 12 next to the door.

From the way he had talked about his childhood home, she had expected faded paint, broken glass, a sense of dread throughout the street. Her eyes caught on a pie that was cooling in a nearby windowsill. 

As if frozen in place by a sticking charm, Sirius still hadn’t budged.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard to come back,” he whispered, his ribcage dropping with his exhale. “I haven’t seen this place since I was sixteen.”

“We don’t have to go inside.” She pulled her jumper tighter around herself as she mourned the loss of their warming charm from the ride over.

With a definitive step forward, he muttered, possibly to her or maybe to himself, “No use being afraid of an old house.” 

She followed quickly behind him as they ascended the stairs and he knocked at the front door. 

It swung open almost instantly, as if someone had been waiting on the other side for them. A woman, looking to be in her mid-thirties, opened the door with a bright smile. Hermione recognised her as Mary from the photograph that Regulus had displayed earlier. 

What Hermione _hadn’t_ noticed in the photograph, probably due to the placement of the carved pumpkin, was Mary’s protruding belly. She rested a hand on her swollen stomach and stepped to the side, ushering them in.

“Reg, your brother is here!” Mary called in her distinct American accent, her head angled towards the grand staircase to the side of the entryway. “Sorry about that. He was just helping Sirius finish cleaning up after a bit of a mishap upstairs.”

Brows raised, Sirius asked, “What sort of mishap?”

“Well, according to the stories I’ve heard about you from Reg, he’s just living up to his namesake,” Mary explained with a glint in her eye as she looked over Sirius. “He was caught drawing a mustache on his grandmother’s portrait in the attic.”

Hermione tried to cover her laugh with a cough but Sirius barked out his with no remorse. “What did he use? You have to have a particular type of charmed ink for portraits, otherwise the mustache will stay in place even as the person moves and that’s no fun.”

A quick set of footsteps descended the staircase and Regulus came into view, looking half breathless. “Sirius, you came.” He sounded relieved, as if he had been worried that Sirius wouldn’t come after all. “And”—he grimaced, giving Hermione an apologetic look—“my sincerest apologies, I had been so out of sorts this morning that I forgot to introduce myself, and I don’t even know your name.”

“Hermione Granger,” she supplied. There was a gentle but assuring touch of Sirius’ hand on her back.

“Pleasure to meet you, Hermione Granger.”

“Come in. You don’t have to wait in the entryway the whole visit.” Mary waved them inside and took their coats, hanging them up on a nearby rack with a flick of her wand.

They navigated through the hall to the parlour, and for the first time since they arrived, she took a closer look at the home. It was warm and cozy, reminiscent of The Burrow but with ornate furniture that made the Weasleys’ pale in comparison. Wide windows let in an abundance of sunlight and she could hear birds singing outside. Loving family photographs filled the walls with a few stationary Muggle paintings for pops of colour.

“If this is what Grimmauld Place looked like when I was younger, I might not have left,” Sirius quipped under his breath. “A bit jarring to see it without the shrieks of the damned echoing through the halls.”

“Could I get you two anything to drink? Or if you’re feeling hungry I have afternoon tea laid out,” Mary offered.

“We had lunch before coming over, but I swear Sirius is a bottomless vacuum most days. I’m sure he could eat again,” Hermione teased, sharing a look with Sirius as he grumbled at her words and smiled at her.

The parlour was painted a pale yellow with white furniture, reminding her of her own mum’s favourite color. 

“Would you like a seat? I have—”

A peculiar noise that sounded like a mixture of glass shattering and a Blast-Ended Skrewt erupting came from the floor above, and Regulus swore. “Sirius!”

A smirk of pride pulled at Sirius’ lips. “Sounds like he really is living up to the name.” 

“Would you like to meet him? I told him you were coming over and you should’ve seen the way he ran around the house in excitement. He really looks up to you. He’s grown up listening to stories about his uncle Sirius before bedtime.” Regulus paused, like he wanted to say more, but then gave a sheepish shrug instead. 

Another noise rang out and Regulus dashed out of the room.

Sirius turned to look at Hermione with a silent question.

“I’ll be okay,” she assured him in a soft voice. “Go meet your nephew, and under no circumstances are you allowed to encourage his behaviour.” He grinned but his hand faltered on her back before finally letting go. 

“You’ll call for me if you need anything?”

“Promise.”

Sirius disappeared around the corner in the direction of Regulus.

“Your home is lovely.” Hermione glanced around the room at the various pieces of art that adorned the walls.

“It wasn’t always like this.” Mary sighed and half-waddled over to a nearby chair. “Do you mind? Even with all the cushioning charms in the world, my feet are still swollen and in pain by the end of most days.”

“Oh, not at all,” she insisted, taking the seat opposite of Mary.

After settling into the armchair, Mary continued, “When I first met Reg, he hadn’t been in this home since Sirius disappeared. Losing his older brother...it completely broke him. He blamed himself, you know.”

She felt her countenance fall at the admission and shook her head, jostling her curls with the motion. “I didn’t know that. I’ve barely heard anything about him from Sirius.” Mary winced and Hermione felt a pang of guilt at her phrasing. “I didn’t mean it like that. He’s talked about Regulus, I just—what I mean to say is—”

“It’s quite alright. I know the circumstances of the last time they spoke. It was Reg’s biggest regret. He’s grown a lot over the years and every time we hit a new milestone—the wedding, fixing up this place, giving birth to Sirius—Reg was always mournful that he didn’t have a family to share it with.”

With her eyes drifting down to Mary’s stomach, she clasped her hands in her lap. “Speaking of family, I see that congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you.” Mary smiled widely and rested a hand on the underside of her stomach. “We are beyond ourselves with excitement. It’s a girl, and Reg has always wanted a daughter.”

“What’s it like?” she asked, unable to resist the question. Having been an only child, Hermione had hardly spent time around infants. The only real experience she had around children was with Teddy.

“Exhausting, and terrifying...and beautiful, and the most love you’ll ever feel in your entire life. It’s hard most days but I know it’ll be worth it when she’s finally here.” The sparkle in Mary’s eyes when she spoke lit up the room. “Who knows, Hermione, maybe you two will be next? A couple cousins for Sirius and Norma?”

“Oh, no, I mean…” Her words died as she considered the possibility. Her mind flew to a little baby with brown curls and silver eyes, of Sirius rocking the baby and singing under his breath in the living room, his kisses on her stomach when they found out they were expecting. 

It surprised her to realise that becoming a mum wasn’t as terrifying as she’d once thought.

With a quick shake of her head, Mary added, “What am I saying? You two are still so young with your entire lives ahead of you. You should just enjoy each other and these early years together while it’s still just the two of you.”

“I’ll have you know, when your father was your age, he thought he was a Veela,” Hermione heard Sirius say, his voice faded from the distance but growing louder as the trio approached the parlour.

“Only because you told me I was one!” Regulus shot back, but there was a tone of amusement in his voice. “It’s your fault I fell off the roof.”

“You didn’t fall! You jumped off the roof. There’s a distinct difference.”

“Because _you_ said I could fly,” he retorted. “I broke both my legs for that one.”

“In my defence, I merely said that Veelas could fly. You’re the one who took that and ran with it. Well, fell with it.”

Regulus snorted. “You hid feathers in my bed and said I transformed in my sleep.”

Mary rose to a standing position just as the brothers entered the room, a child walking between them, not looking away from Sirius.

“Uncle Sirius, can you show me your motorbike?” the younger Sirius asked, his voice filled with awe. “Dad said you fly high enough that you can almost touch the moon.”

“Well, I certainly can’t go to the moon without a spacesuit or a really strong charm, but if your mum says it’s okay I can at least bring you as high as the roof of the house…” Sirius glanced at Mary who gave a nod of approval. “I’ll race you!”

Hermione watched as Sirius darted out the front door, his giggling nephew following close behind.

“How are my favourite ladies feeling?” she heard Regulus murmur to Mary, his hands looped around her from behind and his hands resting on her stomach.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder and gave him a tired smile. “We are both doing great, even though Norma won’t stop kicking my bladder. I swear we have a future Olympic gymnast with how many flips she’s doing.”

Regulus dropped a kiss on the crown of her head and stepped over to the window, pulling back the curtain to peep at Sirius. He turned to Hermione and she saw that the tension in his eyes had faded since their first encounter. “I owe you a debt of thanks. I know you convinced my brother to give me a chance today.”

“You don’t need to thank me. He would’ve come around on his own eventually.”

Raising his brows with an air of disbelief, he shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think he would have come around without intervention. He left home at sixteen and that was the last time he ever saw our parents.”

She felt her shoulders drop as she glanced over at the carefully prepared tea and cakes on the table. It was obvious that Mary and Regulus had been waiting on pins and needles for hours to see if they would actually visit. “Sirius told me about the birthday cake that you sent him at school. I made it for him last month with the same recipe you’d used when you were kids.”

His entire body stilled, as if he thought he misheard her. He swallowed, his voice tight as he explained, “I couldn’t...I couldn’t let them just act like he didn’t exist anymore. I wanted him to know that even if he didn’t have our parents anymore, he still had me.”

“It meant _everything_ to him.”

Just then, the door opened and the younger Sirius darted through on a direct path to Mary. “Mum! I rode on the bike and we saw the top of the house and Sirius let me hold the handlebars!”

Sirius followed soon after, closing the door behind him and crossing over to them with an apologetic grimace. “I may or may not have most certainly been manipulated into promising him a bike of his own.”

“I expected nothing less from him.” Mary beamed, ruffling the hair on her son’s head. “But he has to wait until he’s at least eleven.”

“But Mum!” he whined, stomping his feet slightly as he groaned. “That’s _forever_ away.”

“He’s a quick learner. He’ll be making his own bikes in no time.” Sirius made eye contact with his nephew and wiggled his brows. 

“And what do you say for the ride?” Mary prompted with a gentle voice.

The younger Sirius ran up to his uncle and gave him a big hug. “Thanks, Uncle Sirius.”

Sirius knelt down and returned the embrace. Hermione hardly noticed she had been staring, but she felt tears well up in her eyes as she watched Sirius’ reconciliation with his family. She thought back to one of her first memories with him as he talked about his parents, the way she told him that he deserved to be loved.

His silver gaze lifted and he caught her eye, his lips spreading into a crooked grin and she was lost.

Completely and utterly lost.


	20. The Niffler's Treasure

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Hermione burrowed deeper into the warmth of her blankets, pulling them up closer around her.

Suddenly, a hand tightened on her waist, steadying her and causing her to still.

Her eyes shot open as a flood of memories rushed back from the night before. She thought of Sirius’ smile across the room at Grimmauld Place, how Mary had invited them for supper and the look on Sirius’ face when his nephew clung to him and begged them to stay for just a bit longer. 

By the time they had supper and returned to the flat, they were both exhausted from the day’s whirlwind of events. Hermione hardly had the chance to change into pyjamas before she collapsed onto her bed. She recalled the soft knock at her door and Sirius slipping in to thank her for being there during his reunion with Regulus. 

It was a blur, but she could remember pulling him into bed and prompting him to lay next to her while they talked about their night at Grimmauld Place. The last memory she had was of him pressing a kiss onto her forehead. 

Rotating carefully and trying not to jostle the mattress, she turned to face Sirius. As his chest rose and fell with slow languid breaths, her eyes drifted lower to his shirt, which had bunched up during the night to reveal the lean muscles of his torso. He made a soft sleepy noise that was quite possibly the cutest thing Hermione had ever heard. 

Her breath caught when she felt the heavy weight of his morning erection pressed against her upper thigh, barely suppressing a groan. A rush of arousal travelled down to her core and she couldn’t resist pressing up against it. 

After months of imagining him in her bed, she couldn’t even decide where she wanted to start with him—she wanted his cock in her mouth, her hand, her cunt—

“Good morning, love,” Sirius whispered, his voice deep and raspy from sleep, and her eyes flew up to meet his silver gaze. 

She was absolutely certain that her cheeks were flushed pink, stained with the evidence of her lewd thoughts. 

“Morning,” she mumbled, absently wondering if he would object to her touching the teasing skin of his bare abdomen.

He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and she scrunched it up in response.

Each blink of his eyes dragged as he watched her, his lips curved upward.

“What?”

“Your smile is like sunshine,” he murmured, sounding utterly intoxicated on sleep. 

Her mouth dropped open with a gasp and she gripped his shirt between her fists, pulling herself flush against him.

“What?” he asked with a matching smile, his hand lifting to brush a lock of hair away from her eyes.

“Sirius Black, you’re secretly _romantic_ , aren’t you?”

He froze, his hand still in her curls. “Am not.”

“Then what was that?” she asked, biting back a smile.

Groaning low, his hand slipped just barely under the hemline of her shirt and she could feel his calloused fingertips drag across her skin. “I think you’re still dreaming, Starling; that’s the only reasonable explanation. Either that or audible hallucinations.”

“No, I think you’re just _soft_ ,” she teased, a laugh bubbling up from her chest.

As his grip on her tightened on her waist and his hips canted forward, she felt the press of his cock against her, unbearably hard and so, so thick, causing her breath to catch. She swallowed hard as he whispered, “Let me be the first to assure you that couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

She let out a whimper and her mind hardly had time to process his words as he twisted and lifted her until she was straddling his erection. Balancing with her hands on his stomach, her palms moved up his torso and her fingers spread out over his chest. 

Leaning down to capture his lips, she felt his hands drop from her waist back to the bed. Slotting him at her core, she rocked back and forth on her knees, grinding herself brazenly against him. Her eyes caught on his hands, which were fixed at his sides, gripping the sheets until his knuckles turned white.

“You can touch me,” she panted, breaking the kiss but not slowing the roll of her hips. “Please.”

As if he’d been waiting on bated breath for her permission, his hands flew up to her hips. In one swift motion, he sat up, catching her as she fell backwards with him tucked between her legs. His lips were on hers again before she could even protest the change in position. 

Sirius held her with a gentle sort of awe, his touch featherlight. He began running his hands over her waist, lingering across her ribs, before finally reaching around to firmly squeeze her rounded arse. 

A low rumble came from his chest as he pulled his hands out from under her. 

They continued their exploration; his fingers moved up her sides, sliding beneath her cotton top and pausing just before he reached the swell of her breasts. He pulled away from their kiss, his chest already rising and falling with heavy breaths as he stared down at her with a look of hunger in his eyes. 

Shifting lower, he balanced on his knees, his hand slowly inching up her top, his lips kissing each section of revealed skin as the material gathered. His touch was soft and warm, the slight scruff of his facial hair pricking at her sensitive skin, and she whimpered as he moved upwards. When he reached her breasts, he paused, staring through the thin fabric at her pebbled nipples.

Her patience completely gone, Hermione raised her shoulders and shrugged the top off, tossing it on the bed next to them. Seconds slipped by where neither of them moved, and she simply watched him watch her. Her cheeks heated as she wondered if she’d gone too far—if he didn’t want—

Just as she was about to break the silence, he pounced on her. His hands pushed her breasts together and he placed a kiss on the top of each one. 

“You’re so soft,” he whispered, his voice bordering on reverence.

Threading her fingers into his hair, she urged him to continue, her back arching off the bed, chasing his touch. She caught him studying her reactions as he pressed a single kiss to the hardened peak, drawing a whimper from her lips. He began to experimentally flick and suck at her nipples in earnest, massaging them between his hands and taking in each hitch of her breath.

Each deliberate move was driving her to the brink of insanity. After months of fantasising about the things his lips would do to her, she wanted _more_. She released her hold on his hair and lowered her hand to cup his cock.

She suppressed a whimper, biting her lip when she realized the width of him barely fit against her palm. His cock twitched against her hand and she stroked him over his pyjama bottoms. His hips jutted forward against her hand once, twice, before he pulled away completely, his hands trembling.

He shut his eyes with a pained expression before opening them to meet hers, his pupils blown. “You...you have work soon,” he muttered, almost to himself more than her. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready to leave?”

She blinked, taken aback. “Oh.” She faltered. “I suppose you’re right.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she couldn’t help but feel that she’d done something wrong.

A beat of silence passed between them before she begrudgingly let go of his cock and sat up. Glancing to her side, she found her top in a pile with the discarded blankets and she pulled it back over her head. She thought she caught a look of disappointment in his eyes as she covered herself back up. 

There was an uncomfortable heat throbbing between her thighs and from the strain visible through his loungers, she assumed that he was feeling the same discomfort.

“Thank you again for coming with me to Grimmauld Place last night.” His eyes traced her face as he took her hand and pressed her knuckles to his lips. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“I’m just so happy that you and Regulus reconciled—that you have your brother back.”

“Yeah, he uh...certainly has some timing, doesn’t he?”

Nodding, she fought the urge to giggle. “You could say that.”

He sighed before running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s probably for the best that he distracted us, otherwise I swear I would've taken you against the wall right there.”

“I wish you had.”

He let out a deep groan and squeezed his eyes shut, pinching his fingers at the bridge of his nose. “You can’t say stuff like that. You don’t know what that does to me.”

“That’s only what you’ve done to me for _months_. Speaking of, just how much do you like punching people?”

His eyes shot open and he looked over at her with surprise in his gaze. “In the past, probably an unhealthy amount—less now than in my angry teenage years. Why? Who do you want me to punch?”

“James.”

A strangled sound, part laugh, part gasp escaped his lips. “Hermione Granger.”

“What? He’s the one who told me about the ‘one night witch’ making it seem like a whole thing. I wouldn’t have panicked nearly as bad if he hadn’t—”

“Nearly as bad?” Sirius repeated, his hand resting on the low of her back. “Shouldn’t have been anything at all, love.”

She winced. “It brought back bad memories, like a gut reaction, and all I could think about was leaving before I fell apart.”

He stilled, unmoving for several moments before his arms wrapped around her and he pulled her against him. His lips pressed to the crown of her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry. You should be punching James for being a prat and putting the idea in my head in the first place.”

“He uh...might have a bit of a personal grudge on that one, I’m afraid.” Sirius grimaced, his lips pushed into a thin line. “It was our worst fight to date and he hasn’t forgotten it.”

“What happened?”

His eyes flicked over to meet hers, guilt etched in the corners. “Remember how I went to live with the Potters at sixteen?”

Frowning, she nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s _possible_ I lost my virginity in a back room at a Potter family reunion.”

“ _What_?”

“She _may have_ been his cousin.”

With a gasp, she leaned back and her mouth dropped open. “Sirius!”

He lifted his hands in front of him and shrugged. “It’s not my fault! Pureblood family trees are ridiculously incestual. It was either his family or mine and I was _not_ going to sleep with my own cousin.”

“I can’t believe you. What happened?”

“I don’t know, I was just a dumb kid. I carried it on with her for a bit—well, longer than I should’ve at least—before I came to my senses and broke it off.”

She raised her brows and waited for him to continue.

His hands fell and he twisted his lips to the side with a guilty expression. “After a couple months she wanted a label, and I didn’t. It made me realise that I wasn’t actually all that interested in her, more like I just wanted _someone_. After that, I started avoiding the family gatherings and didn’t return any of her owls. I may have also hidden behind a rubbish bin once when I saw her in Diagon Alley.”

Cocking her head with a disapproving look, Hermione watched as his hair fell in front of his eyes as his head tilted downward.

“When you grow up with a family who hates you, it really fucks you up. I’m not saying it wasn’t a shit thing to do but I didn’t exactly make the best of choices back then. Between her and Moony complaining about the witch I brought back to the flat, James thought I wasn’t capable of being interested in anyone for more than a night.” He winced at the phrasing.

She tutted softly under her breath. James was protective of his family, and knowing the Potters, he probably ended up having to do damage control with the cousin on Sirius’ behalf.

“Prongs does owe me from our old bet. If you’re serious, I could turn it in for one solid punch.”

Tilting her head back and forth, she considered the prospect. It did seem satisfying in the moment but she knew that she’d regret causing a divide between the best friends, especially because James had his heart in the right place. “Perhaps that’s not a great idea, though he does deserve it.”

With a quick glance to the clock, he dropped another kiss to her lips before climbing out of the bed. She tried to ignore the massive tent at the front of his loungers and the outline of his straining cock. “I won’t be the one to get you in trouble for being late. I have you all to myself this week so I can’t be selfish.”

“Do you now?” she asked with a teasing smile, batting her eyelashes up at him. “I wasn’t aware I was already spoken for.”

“I do, I’m not sure if you’re aware but the time that we weren’t talking was the worst week I’ve had in the future—”

She scrunched her nose and looked up at him as she corrected, “The present.”

“—and I’m not keen on spending any more late nights in my shop unless you’re there with me.” He offered her his hand with his palm up, helping her to a standing position.

“Thank you.” She gave him a shy smile.

His eyes drifted down to her lips and he grinned.

“Here comes the sun,” he sang ever so softly under his breath, guiding and turning her hand until she spun in place with a laugh. His hand settled on the small of her back and he dipped her, laying another kiss on her lips. “I’ll never get over being able to kiss you whenever I want.”

She wouldn’t either.

* * *

The memory of Sirius still lingered on her lips as she entered her office at the Ministry and collapsed into her seat with an undignified huff. 

Her eyes caught on a folder placed in the centre of her desk that had not been there on Friday when she left. With a frown, she opened it and skimmed through the documents inside. The first packet had details about the smuggler case from over a month before, including plea bargains from the offenders themselves who provided information that would be used in an additional raid of their supplier of Nifflers. 

There was a large red URGENT label stamped in the upper corner and she saw the date was listed for this afternoon.

“Oh, great! You’ve found the assignment,” Hannah said as she rushed into the office with a coffee in her hand. “I was hoping you’d come in early today.”

She fought the urge to correct Hannah—she hadn’t come in early; in fact, she was nearly twenty minutes late.

“This is for you.” She handed Hermione the coffee with an eager smile and continued, “The extraction of the Nifflers is just after noon, and the DMLE is preparing for their raid as we speak. Apparently it’s a rather large operation and we still haven’t been able to track down the lead on the dragon egg but it’s good to stop the Niffler breeding program before they distribute the next batch of eggs.”

Hermione blinked, taking a long sip of her coffee and relishing in the taste as the caffeine entered her system. “I haven’t been on a case since I received the dragon burn almost two months ago. Are you sure this one's for me?”

“It has your name on it.” With a shrug, Hannah’s gaze dropped to the insulated cup in her hand. “Theo Nott made a special request for you, expedited the paperwork and everything this weekend so you could take the case.”

With her mind three steps behind from fatigue, she finally made the connection that Hannah usually brought her plain black coffee. Theo must’ve provided Hannah with her coffee order. 

A fresh wave of guilt crashed over her when she thought of the look in his eyes as she left him alone at the concert to go home to Sirius. In all the chaos, she’d completely forgotten to send him a letter thanking him for the weekend and apologising for her abrupt departure.

The morning went by in a blur of paperwork and a quick lunch at her desk. By the time noon rolled around, she was already ready to go home to Sirius, curl up in front of the fireplace with a fresh cup of tea and finally start reading her new book. 

Five after the hour, she stepped out into the common area of her floor and passed by a cluster of flying memos on their way to various offices. After a quick scan of the room, she spotted Theo waiting by the lifts, wearing his winter coat and carrying a hat in his hands.

There was a _ding_ as the door to the lift opened.

“Theodore!” she called out, waving her hand in his direction, trying to catch his attention as she hurried over to meet him. 

The corner of his lips raised into a half smile when he made eye contact with her and he stuck his hand into the lift to hold it open, waiting for her.

“Hey, Granger.” He stood to the side and held the lift door as she stepped through. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She looked up at him and felt another twist of guilt. “I’m so sorry I left early on Saturday, I feel awful. I should’ve written or called or sent a smoke signal of some sort. I’m the absolute worst friend in the entire world—”

“Granger, please stop before you hurt yourself.” He half laughed out the words and she felt relieved at his carefree tone. “I already told you I understand. Truly, there are no hard feelings. Did everything at least work out how you’d hoped it would with your flatmate?”

Pausing to consider his question, she caught her balance as the lift moved through the levels. “I suppose it did, in a roundabout sort of way. It took a bit to get there but I think we’re in a good place now.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I can’t say I’m all that surprised, I half thought he was going to try and fight me when I arrived at the flat to pick you up.”

She thought back to Sirius’ comment about spilling Theo’s blood on her dress and the crack of his fist against Cormac’s face. “That’s absurd, Sirius is a pacifist.”

Theo snorted in disbelief.

“How did you manage to get me on this case?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. “I thought James blacklisted me from fieldwork until the end of the year.”

“Not _officially_ , and Annette owed me a favour or two.”

Her brows raised as the doors to the lift opened. “You called in a favour for me?”

“Oh Granger, I would never deny you the opportunity to work with an adorable little menace.”

Andrea stood just on the other side of the lift doors, seemingly waiting for the pair. Hermione gave her a small wave but Andrea’s eyes were fixed on the wizard in front of her. “I wouldn’t call you _adorable_ ,” she quipped under her breath in response to Theo. “Right on the nose with menace though.”

“I was talking about the _Nifflers_.” Theo made a sound of annoyance at the back of his throat and Andrea rolled her eyes in response. “Why are you here? Is this a job shadow so you can see what competent Ministry employees do with their days?”

Theo and Hermione crossed into the main level of the Ministry and Andrea began to walk with them.

“That was neither clever nor devastating. You’re losing your touch, Nott.”

Hermione’s eyes darted back and forth between them as her colleagues each picked up their pace as they bickered, seemingly energised by the argument. She had gone on walks with Andrea around the Ministry before when they wanted to leave the department and discuss a case, and Andrea had never moved like this before. Today, Hermione found herself having to lengthen and quicken her strides just to keep up.

“You’re telling me we’re stuck working with you all afternoon? How did you even get assigned this case, Allan?” he grumbled, not even bothering to look over at her as they walked in the direction of the fireplaces. “Granger’s more than capable of doing this on her own.”

The scoff that left Andrea’s lips practically echoed in the air around them. “I don’t need you to tell me that _Hermione’s_ brilliant. I realise you went to _Hogwarts_ and you’re not used to playing nice with others because you were in the house with the snakes and that’s supposed to mean something, but in the real world it’s encouraged for peers to work together.”

Theo mouthed the word _peers_ with sarcastic snark.

“I don’t mind her coming,” Hermione interjected weakly. “I like working with Andrea; it’ll be nice to have someone to split the paperwork with.”

They both ignored her comment.

“Is this where you talk about Durmstrang and how superior it is to Hogwarts? Do go on, it’s been close to an entire hour since you last harped on about it,” he prompted, his voice laced with annoyance.

“Harped? Excuse you, just because I’ve been mistaken for a Veela before doesn’t mean you can call me a harpy.” Andrea sniffed, her nose turned up in the air. “It’s not my fault I’m beautiful.”

He shook his head and corrected her, “I never said _harpy_. As far as I’m aware, they have no soul sucking abilities. If I had to classify you, I’d go with Dementor.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to know the difference in classification, seeing as you come from such a disadvantaged background. What was your school song again? Oh yes, it spoke of your heads being ‘bare and full of air, dead flies, and bits of fluff’. At the very least, you can say they were self-aware at Hogwarts.”

Theo’s shoulders tensed as he paused in front of the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder. “I’d quote your school song back to you but Durmstrang is not memorable enough nor significant enough for the world to know anything about it other than it produces mediocrity.” 

The flames turned green as he threw the powder in and disappeared over the threshold.

“Medioc—you are _insufferable_!” Andrea screeched, storming through the emerald fire.

It took nearly half a minute before Hermione steeled herself and followed after them.

Andrea was so consumed with arguing with Theo that after she immobilised the Nifflers, she all but forgot about the task of collecting them. Hermione eyed the pair as she set up her bag and began the extraction process. Even though their words sounded harsh, there was a sort of electricity in the air between them as they continued to goad the other. She could’ve sworn she caught a glint of something in Andrea’s eyes as she looked up at Theo and jabbed at his chest with her index finger. 

“Why are you so offended? You’re not even Bulgarian!”

After a few minutes, Hermione began to realise that neither coworker was going to assist her in the task, which was fine by her. She didn’t particularly mind working alone and Nifflers were some of the easiest creatures to collect. There was nothing venomous about their bodies and they were small enough to lift by hand without having to use magic. 

Hermione tuned out the snarky back and forth as she worked. She turned the corner and retrieved the final Niffler in her view. Just before she placed him in the cage in her expandable bag, a peculiar looking chain caught her attention; less than an inch of a yellow gold strand was dangling out of the little creature’s pouch. 

“God, I pity whichever witch gets stuck with you, Nott.”

“ _Not_? So then you don’t pity the witch.” Hermione could hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s okay to show a little envy sometimes, Allan, no one would even notice your change in colour if you turned green.”

Andrea’s footsteps approached, growing louder with each step. “Are you honestly making a cheap play on your last name right now?”

Suddenly, she realised why she recognised the chain. She had seen a similar one years ago, a specific design set in goblin-forged gold, Ministry standard.

Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out all the sound around her. After glancing over her shoulder to make sure her colleagues were still out of sight, she began to pull the chain. Her hand trembled with each inch of revealed gold, and she held her breath as the pendant slipped out of the pouch.

A Time-Turner.

The Niffler had a _Time-Turner_ in its pouch.

With an inelegant snort, Andrea turned the corner, still looking back over her shoulder at Theo. “You wish.”

Before she had another moment to think, Hermione was shoving the necklace into the pocket of her coat and tucking the still frozen Niffler into the cage. She locked it and pulled the bag shut. 

“All done?” Andrea asked, completely oblivious to the inner turmoil churning in Hermione’s chest.

Unable to trust her voice, she nodded and handed the bag to Andrea before slipping her hands into her pockets and following behind them as they walked back towards the fireplace in the room.

Theo’s eyes swept the length of Andrea’s body, and Hermione caught the brief pause on the curve of Andrea’s arse just before she stepped into the hearth. “Sorry you had to deal with her today,” Theo muttered under his breath, clearing his throat before sighing. “She always finds a way to get under my skin and it complicates everything.”

Her hand was gripping the Time-Turner so tightly that her fingers were going numb. 

With each step, she felt dragged down with the weight of the necklace. Colour drained from her face and she felt lightheaded as he tossed powder into the flames, gesturing for her to go through first.

The sharp edge of the metal bit into the flesh of her thumb. 

She had just stolen Ministry property.

She could be sacked.

She could be sent to Azkaban.

But through it all, one thought kept repeating through her mind as she stepped into the fire.

She had a way to send Sirius home.


	21. Their Ridiculous Rule

The rush of adrenaline that coursed through Hermione’s veins caused a tremor in her hands that took hours to calm. When she stepped back into the Ministry, she half-expected a group of Aurors to surround her with wands drawn, ready to take her to questioning. Much to her relief, she was greeted like normal. She passed through the mostly empty halls and finished out her day with a mountain of paperwork, receiving no help from Andrea or Theo who were both mysteriously absent following their Niffler extraction.

By the time she arrived back at the flat, she wanted to fall over from exhaustion, but even more than that, she just wanted to see Sirius.

Her flatmate popped his head out of his room and came to greet her just after she had toed off her shoes, keeping her coat on, the Time-Turner weighing down its pocket.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” she murmured, hooking her thumbs through the loops of his trousers. “Especially after this morning.”

He stilled, his throat bobbing with a harsh swallow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m going to go change but did you want to maybe watch a film? I’ve had a long day and I’d love to just curl up on the sofa with you.”

Following Sirius’ quick nod, she slipped back to her bedroom to change.

Before, she had felt like they had all the time in the world, but now that she had found the Time-Turner, their moments together felt like sand slipping through her fingers. She wanted nothing more than to ignore the necklace, the one she had just hidden away in her desk drawer under a dozen charms, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she had to give it to him.

A numbing sensation swept over her at the thought of never seeing him again. It made her feel an awful mix of ill and terrified.

She couldn’t let him leave, not without telling him—showing him—exactly what he meant to her.

* * *

“Hermione,” Sirius pushed out the word, his voice strained. “What are you doing?”

Letting out a quiet sound of confusion, she replied, “I’m not sure what you mean. I always sit on the sofa when we watch films.”

His breath tickled the back of her neck as he leaned in closer. “Yes, but you’re not on the _sofa_ , you’re on my lap.”

Since their first real kiss, she had spent time ruminating on all the moments where she had thought she was giving Sirius an opening to kiss her, to touch her, and how he had never taken the chance. It quickly became obvious to her that he must not be able to read her body language and cues when she wanted something more. Even just that morning he had sent her off to work when leaving was the last thing she had wanted.

If he needed her to be more forward, she would gladly do so.

In an attempt to prompt him into action, Hermione sauntered out into the living room, and settled herself on Sirius’ lap, wearing only the silky sleep shorts and thin camisole she usually wore to bed. 

After her long day, she had no interest in watching the telly.

When she noticed the set of clothing at the top of her wardrobe, she remembered the look in his eyes when he first saw her wearing the small camisole and shorts. A thrill ran through her at the memory. 

She hoped he would look at her like that again.

“And you’re on the sofa. This is the spot with the best view. I wouldn’t want to miss the show. I’m quite interested in—” Hermione’s mind went blank on the title of the film they had playing on the screen as she felt his bulge twitch and grow beneath her “—whatever’s on the telly.”

His breath stuttered against her back and he groaned into her shoulder, “It would seem that _I’m_ the one with the best view here.”

Tilting her hips backward, she swooped her hair off to one side and settled against him, her back pressed to his firm chest.

It felt like he wasn’t breathing.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, little witch.” It sounded like a promise and a warning wrapped into one simple phrase. His lips danced across her neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh.

“Am I?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light. She shifted again, barely holding back a whimper at the feeling of his cock beneath her. Her knickers felt wet and slid when she moved.

With one more intentional wiggle, his rigid arousal pressed against her through their clothes and she rotated her hips in a tantalizing manner, needing to ease the tension that had been winding within her for months. He swore under his breath before his hands, which had been clenched into fists at his sides, moved up to grip her hips.

“If you keep moving like that, I can’t promise I won’t end up pinning you to this sofa,” he warned, his voice strangled.

A rush of bravery passed through her as she heard herself declare, “Good. It’s no marching band, but I’d say you’ve caught on nicely.”

One hand slipped under the hem of her shirt, brushing across her skin, and the other explored from her hip down her thigh. She arched into him, the back of her head pressed into his shoulder. His breathing was soft and erratic, trembling with each shaky inhale.

“Oh, Hermione, you have no idea what I’ve dreamed of doing to you,” he murmured, pressing his lips along the nape of her neck as his fingers traced her inner thigh, drawing small circles towards her core.

“Tell me,” she sighed into the words.

He let out a hiss when he realised she wasn’t wearing a bra; her nipples tightened and peaked under his touch, straining against his palm. “I want every part of you, to take you on every surface in this flat, hear you scream my name until your voice gives out and you forget how to walk.”

She let out a trembling exhale.

“I want you in every way you’ll have me.”

He laid kisses down her neck, reaching for the thin strap of her top and slipping it off her shoulder before repeating the same motion with the other side. Tilting her head, she surrendered herself to him, relishing in the possessive way he kissed her. She heard him swallow when the cool air of the room hit her exposed breasts, her top pooling at her waist.

“I am going to get in so much trouble with you,” he whispered. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, eliciting a moan from her lips. The feel of him hard beneath her sent a flood of heat to her lower abdomen.

Feeling lightheaded from his touch, she rubbed herself along his cock, seeking friction. “Please, Sirius,” she pleaded, her clit throbbing with want. A single finger brushed against her core and she spread her legs in response, her hips following his retreating hand. “You were such a tease this morning. I need you to touch me.”

Emboldened from that declaration, his hand disappeared under the silk shorts. His calloused finger circled her clit over her knickers and he sucked in a breath. “Fuck, how long have you been like this?” 

Hermione keened, chasing his fingers, urging him to continue. “Since you kissed me Sunday.”

He pushed her knickers aside, slipping his index finger through her folds and immediately into her cunt. Groaning into her shoulder, he said, “You’re going to be the death of me. I never stood a chance.”

“I’m not done with you yet. You better haunt me. Unfinished business as you said,” she teased before gasping as he added a second, gliding against her walls with each pump.

There was no stopping the whimper that escaped her lips when he circled her bundle of nerves. She felt him tense behind her, and she looked over her shoulder at him, realising he looked as feverish as she felt.

His thumb swirled over her swollen clit, drawing out another moan. “Sirius—”

At the sound of his name, he sucked in a breath, wrapped a steadying arm around her waist, and shoved her bottoms and knickers to the floor in one fell swoop. His feet hooked around her ankles and forced her knees further apart, exposing her to the empty room.

“You’re so fucking tight, love,” he murmured, pushing two fingers back inside her and they both groaned at the intrusion. “You like the feel of me? Of my fingers stretching your little cunt?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her head dizzy. She was so sensitive, she felt like any touch from him would drive her over the edge into oblivion.

Each swirl of his thumb and thrust of his fingers brought her closer to the release she so desperately craved, the one she couldn’t get with her own hand—she wanted _him_. He somehow knew exactly what she needed, as if he could read her mind and anticipate her reactions.

“Oh god,” she panted, bucking her hips against him as he continued at the same torturous pace that was driving her to the brink of insanity. Reaching behind her, she laced her fingers into his hair, holding on to the black locks for dear life. “Please don’t stop.”

“Fuck, you’re perfection.” He sucked at the pulse point on her neck, adding to the bruise from the other night. “You’re a fucking dream.”

Filled with a sense of breathless urgency, she felt delirious, the coil inside her winding tighter. She begged, “Please, Sirius, I want you—please—I need—”

With a shuddered breath, her entire body tensed before she unravelled in his arms, her walls clenching around him in pulsing waves while her chest heaved. He loosened his hold, rolling his hips beneath her while she rode out her climax. Her eyes became unfocused and her head lolled back, her bones feeling liquified.

“Your lips are so sweet. I wonder how your cunt tastes,” he rasped, his fingers slipping out of her and raising to his lips. 

The skin of her cheeks heated as he sucked his fingers clean. She was laying slack on top of him, her legs still splayed and her top shoved down with her breasts exposed.

He was still fully dressed, and she couldn’t deny either of them the pleasure of remedying that.

Before her courage dissipated, she flipped around, slightly wobbly from the intensity of her orgasm, and straddled Sirius, slotting herself against his erection. She tugged at the button of his trousers impatiently, wanting to sink down onto him.

Suddenly, his hand landed on hers, stopping her from her task. Looking up at him with wide eyes, her heart fell. “It’s okay if you don’t want...I mean, if I’m not...”

His hands cupped her cheeks and he pulled her down to meet his lips, claiming her with a searing kiss. “It’s not you—I want you, every second of every day,” he promised, pausing just long enough to kiss her again.

“Then don’t think so much,” she whispered, pausing with her hands still on the top button of his trousers. She could feel his erection reaching up for her. “Don’t you want me to touch you?”

Conflict passed over his eyes as he nodded, his throat dipping. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

Her hand drifted back to cup his bulge. She never broke eye contact while she dragged the zipper down, drawing a hiss from his lips. 

Tongue darting across her lips, she watched his gaze follow the motion, his eyes full of longing. She swung her leg over and lowered herself to the ground in front of him. A harsh exhale escaped his lips. She pulled his length from its confines and he lifted his hips so she could tug his trousers and trunks off. 

Blood hummed through her veins and she stared at him, her mouth watering at the sight. Below a fine line of dark hair, his cock stood, thicker and longer than she had ever had before.

“Oh my god.” She barely recognised her own voice, weighed down with arousal.

His eyes darkened at the sight of her taking his cock in her hand, giving the base a tentative stroke. She could hardly fit her hand around the thickest part of him. His hips jumped off the sofa, jerking up towards her palm, and a bead of precum dripped out of the head.

Staring at the drop of liquid, she wet her lips greedily, lowering herself down to lick the tip clean. Sirius’ breath hitched and she looked up at him, her tongue still pressed to his cock; his hooded eyes were watching her with a longing that ignited fire in her core. It was a tight fit, but her lips stretched around the first inch. She closed her eyes, bringing him further into her mouth, tracing the veins with the flat of her tongue. His hands stole into her curls, guiding her gently as she bobbed up and down.

He gulped, his inhales growing shallow and irregular. His grip in her hair tightened slightly. “Gods, you look so perfect on my cock, like you were meant to take me.” 

At his words, her eyes snapped open to meet his gaze. She was surprised to see him watching her with a look of mesmerised rapture. His thumb trailed along her cheekbone as the other loosened its hold in her hair. Her only prior experience with oral had been with Cormac and Ron, and both had closed their eyes.

The intensity of Sirius’ gaze caused a funny sort of flip in her chest; she felt like he was memorising each detail of the moment, enchanted by her lips.

She wanted to give him everything, to make him feel like she had felt in his arms, to drown him in ecstasy. Focusing on the slide of his silken skin across her tongue, she relaxed her jaw and listened to his soft pants above her. Her thighs pressed together and heat fluttered in her core as she wondered what sounds he would make as he came inside her.

Pulling up off his cock, she toyed with the tip, swirling her tongue around the weeping head. She rocked forward on her knees with each downstroke of her mouth. His breath caught every time her tongue delved right under the tip and his reaction sent a shiver through her.

“Hermione,” he groaned, his voice ragged. She keened with delight at the sound of him calling out her name, and the hand in her hair tightened again, his abdomen tensing at the vibration on his cock.

Testing her limits, she took as much of him as she could without gagging, her hand following the pattern of her mouth with the rest of him.

“Oh, fuck!” His hips bucked up in reaction and the tip of his shaft sank deep into her throat. 

Even when the head of his cock kissed the back of her throat, he wasn’t fully inside her.

Pulling out instantly, his hands tucked under her chin and tilted her head up. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I—”

When she realised his reason for stopping, she pulled away from his hands and stared up into his eyes as she dipped back and captured his length in her mouth again. It hadn’t bothered her; in fact, she felt a rush of heat pool between her thighs when he lost control and thrust upwards into her.

She continued working him to the brink, spurred on with every sound and shift of his hips.

Suddenly, he gritted out, “I’m close—where do you want me to—”

Hermione squeezed his thighs in response and he gently lifted her mouth up and off of him. She fisted his slick length, drinking in his soft pants and moans, which grew shorter and shallower by the second. His eyes squeezed shut and he threw his head back, his cock flexing and his breath stilted. Spurts of hot liquid landed on her breasts and she slowed her pace, easing him down from the high. Watching him unravel was the single most erotic experience of her life.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he marvelled, his eyes catching on the spend cooling on her chest.

The way he looked at her, she felt it.

After a beat, he patted the cushion next to him with a wry grin. “You know, I think I judged Not-Bertha too harshly. Some of my most favourite memories involve this sofa.”

“Sirius, as fascinating as that is, I find that I’m rather in need of a shower at the moment.” She stood on wobbly legs and tossed her shirt into the growing pile on the floor. “Would you care to join me and make more favourite memories in the shower?”

His eyes fell onto her chest, dropping lower and—

He hopped up from his seated position, pulling his shirt over his head in frantic haste. “Lead the way.”

Giggling, she sprinted to the loo and he followed quickly behind her.

* * *

Hot water poured over Hermione, trailing down her body and rinsing away the mess Sirius had left on her breasts. Steam rose into the air, and she arched her neck, taking in the sensation of the heat.

Sirius turned to pick up her bottle of body wash and her eyes wandered lower, taking his body in with a new appreciation. Suddenly, she noticed a tiny black script she’d never seen before. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she tried to hold back the laugh that so desperately wanted to escape.

“Not doing great things for my ego here, love,” he muttered, tossing her a look from over his shoulder as he squeezed the container into his hand.

“It’s not that, it’s just I didn’t realise you were serious!”

His brows raised with a silent joke.

“About the arse tattoo,” she clarified. “I can’t believe you actually have an arse tattoo. Does that really say ‘mischief managed’?”

“It does.” He grinned, his chest puffed out slightly with pride.

“But why?”

Lathering the vanilla scented soap until it was sudsy, Sirius ran his hands down her chest, massaging each mound, testing the weight in his palm. His thumb brushed over her abused nipples, tender from his earlier attentions yet still straining for more. “Because, if you’re seeing it, chances are that mischief has occurred.”

Desire filled his gaze as his hand laced around her waist, his lips claiming her mouth. She took a step back from the force of his kiss and her shoulders hit the cool tiled wall of the shower behind her. Slanting her lips against his, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. 

His hips pinned her to the wall and she could feel his cock twitch to life against her stomach. Though his fingers had helped ease the torment, the fire in her longed for him to fill her completely. 

She wanted to ride him until he forgot his own name.

Her clit throbbed as his hands drifted lower, cupping the curve of her bum. He groaned into the kiss. “Your arse.”

“What?”

“You’ve been torturing me for _months_.” His forehead leaned against hers. “In those bouncing dresses and little shorts, teasing me and”—his grip tightened possessively, eliciting a small whimper from her—“that day you were in the kitchen in nothing but a shirt and knickers—gods I thought I was still dreaming.”

He pressed his lips to the skin of her neck, traveling down past her collarbone until he captured a nipple in his mouth. Without hesitation, she arched up towards him and his scruff brushed against the swell of her breast. 

Her brain was misfiring as he alternated between teasing the hardened peak with the tip of his tongue and sucking on it gently between his lips.

“Why did we wait so long to do this?” she gasped for breath, the dense steam from the running water filled her lungs.

“Fuck if I know,” he murmured, swirling the tip of his tongue against the hardened peak. “I’ll never be able to stop now that I know how you feel...how responsive you are to me...”

“Then don’t stop,” she urged, widening her stance and taking his arousal in her hand, angling it between her thighs. “Please.”

His gaze lifted. His cheeks were flushed and his hair wild from her fingers. The blunt head of his cock nudged at her entrance. Jaw clenched, his hands pressed to either side of her head against the tile. 

She nearly thought her knees would buckle beneath her when his hands shifted down, his fingers digging into her arse.

Just as quickly as he had started, he stepped away from her and turned off the water, making her shiver from the sudden loss of the steam and his body heat. 

Shoulders slumping in disappointment, she stared at the muscles in his back flex with each movement while he towelled off. His erection protruded, red and weeping for her once more. When he tied the towel low on his torso, the prominent bulge tented the front of the fabric.

“We need to slow down,” he mumbled, his eyes fixed on the floor as he handed her a fresh towel. “I’m forgetting myself. I almost—” Pausing, he tapped his fingers against his thigh. 

Her insides filled with ice as she wrapped the towel around herself, stepping out of the shower. 

“You almost what? Sirius, I—”

He cut off the rest of her sentence with a kiss, swallowing the words. “I want to do this the right way.” His voice lowered and his eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Come to bed with me? I liked waking up next to you.”

A small smile tugged at her lips and she nodded, following him down the hall to his room for the night.

* * *

Sleeping in Sirius’ bed could easily become an addiction. She loved waking up tangled in his arms and legs, surrounded by warmth. 

By the time they had their morning snog and dressed for the day—which was an impressive feat considering each time she put on an item of clothing, Sirius removed one from her—she was once again behind schedule. If they hadn’t woken up so early, she was sure that she wouldn’t have made it in until lunch.

They finally crossed into the living room with a passable amount of clothing and Hermione tugged at his shirt, pulling him to her for a kiss. 

“You’re going to be late for work,” he grinned, returning her kiss and trailing his hands under the hem of her blouse.

“I’m already late for work,” she teased, her hands slipping under his shirt and up his chest. Now that she had a taste of him, she couldn’t keep herself from touching him at every opportunity. “My first meeting of the day is with Theo to review the paperwork from the smugglers case I told you about. I’m sure he won’t be so understanding if I show up an hour late, snogged senseless.”

“Maybe I should snog you a bit more senseless,” he murmured, his grip on her turned possessive. “In case he gets any ideas.”

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she shook her head at him. “I really should be going...” 

Still, she made no move to leave.

It seemed that he was undeterred, because his thumb and index finger twisted gently at her nipple over her bra, his eyes watching her intently. “I’m going to talk to Moony and Prongs tonight, okay?”

“About me? About us?” she asked, feeling the apples of her cheeks flush. 

Her back arched against him and he nodded. “As enjoyable as it would be to tell them where to shove their rules, I figured I’d at least bring over some whisky and get them in a good mood first.”

She froze at his words, her hands still resting on his abdomen. “What?”

His eyes squeezed shut and his fingers slid beneath the cups of her bra to touch her more thoroughly. “I’m sure after a bit of whisky they’ll change their minds, at least hopefully enough to not kick me out of the family.”

Stepping away, his hands slipped out from under her top, and she felt her pulse race beneath her skin. “Change their minds about what?”

“You know, about their ridiculous rule.”

“What _rule_?” The word felt odd in her mouth.

Eyes widening in panic, his shoulders tensed and he sounded stunned, “What do you mean ‘what rule’?”

“Sirius, what are you talking about?”

“It was their only rule when I moved in with you.” He swallowed thickly, the muscles in his jaw twitched. “ _‘Don’t touch Hermione’_ , _‘don’t look at Hermione’_ , I believe there was a strongly implied _‘don’t lick Hermione’_ in there as well.”

Rage bubbled up inside her, filling her chest until she saw red. “ _What?_ ”

He grimaced, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking backwards onto his heels. “I thought you knew.”

The realisation crashed over her, like she had been doused with icy water. “Is that why you ran away when I first kissed you on the rooftop?”

“ _I_ kissed _you_ ,” he corrected. “But yeah, I already told you that I panicked. I couldn’t break that promise, and I know it’s mad and they’re my brothers, but Starling you’re—”

A harsh scoff escaped her and she hardly recognised her own voice. “You’re telling me you listened to some sexist chastity claim from James and Remus and _that’s_ why—”

“I don’t think you understand.” His brow knitted together and his lips curved into a frown. 

“Oh, I understand,” she spat out, resentment chasing through her veins. “What, were you supposed to trade them something? Livestock? Gold? Land?”

“What?”

“Because I’m a woman,” she explained, emphasising each syllable. “Either that or I somehow missed the conversation when they threatened Ginny from touching Harry.”

Sirius fell silent, freezing in place as she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“So what was it? What were you supposed to give them in compensation for the depreciation of my worth from a sexual relationship with me?”

He paled. “ _What_ ? No! I wouldn’t have _traded_ —it’s not—fucking hell. They’re the only real family I’ve ever had, I couldn’t lose—” He stopped and let out a shaky breath, as if trying to settle his nerves and remember how to talk in full sentences again. “But _you_ there is no way I ever saw _you_ coming. At first, I thought I could do it, but fuck if staying away from you isn’t like tearing out a part of my soul.”

She felt her frustration soften at his words, thinking of how James told her that more than anything, Sirius was just afraid to be alone again. He must’ve been equally tormented as she was these past few months, stuck between the obligation to his best mates and his own feelings.

Her head swirled as every hesitation, every moment of doubt flew through her memory. Those times when she struggled with understanding the disconnect between the way he looked at her and his actions when he would break the moment. 

Everything was because of Remus and James meddling in her life without her consent.

She whipped out her phone and pressed a few buttons before shoving it back into her pocket.

“What are you doing?” Sirius asked in a low voice, but it was faded to a quiet hum in her ears as she snagged a handful of Floo Powder. “Are you going to the Ministry?”

“Change of plans. You don’t need to talk to Remus and James tonight,” she snarled, tossing a handful of Floo Powder before stomping into the fireplace. “Potter Cottage.”

Under different circumstances, Hermione might have been amused at the way James’ face contorted into a mix of bafflement and alarm at the look of fury she gave him as he crossed into the receiving room. She also would’ve teased Remus for his disheveled look when he popped out of the fireplace just seconds after her, his hair still wet and his clothing skewed as if he received her message while he was in the shower during his morning routine.

“What’s going on?” Remus asked, his voice higher than usual as he appeared through the flames. He looked between Hermione and James before his gaze landed on her. “You said it was an emergency.”

A low growl built in her chest as she glowered at the men, and her hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides until her knuckles turned white. “You two! Office! Now!” Turning on her heel, she jerked her head in the direction of the office and pushed past James in the doorway to the hall. 

She could hear them whispering as they walked a few steps behind her.

“What did you do?!” she heard James hiss. “She looks homicidal!”

Remus scoffed, “What do you mean me? What did _you_ do?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

This time, she took James’ seat behind the desk, watching as the men shared a look and sat in the empty chairs on the opposite side, as if deciding not to push their luck and argue about seating arrangements. Leaning her elbows on the desk, she laced her fingers together and rested her chin on top of her joined hands. 

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. 

“Well?” she prompted, waiting for their response.

“It was Remus!” James declared, jabbing a thumb in his direction. “I told him not to and he did it anyway.”

Her brows raised and she looked to Remus. She watched as a bead of water fell from his fringe.

“James doesn’t even know why we’re here.” Remus rolled his eyes. “How about we start with that before we start blaming each other?”

Impatiently brushing the hair from her eyes, she repeated the words from Sirius in a harsh tone, “‘ _Don’t touch Hermione, don’t look at Hermione, don’t lick Hermione.’_ Sound familiar?”

Remus and James froze at her words, eyes flitting to each other—

“Don’t look at each other, look at me! Who told you that you have the right to dictate my love life?”

Looking like he might be ill, Remus’ face contorted at the phrase ‘love life’.

Sitting up at the edge of the seat, James began to ramble, “I know at first it might sound harsh, but you’re our daughter and you know that we love you and you have to understand, we just want what’s best for you—”

“What’s _best_ for me is that you let me be my own person and make my own choices,” she insisted, her stern tone dripping with disapproval. “You had _no right_ to make any of those rules regarding what I do with _my_ body!”

Remus swallowed hard and nodded, looking pale. She couldn’t tell if it was because of the upcoming full moon or from her tone.

“Remember the lecture of ‘93?” she asked, her voice sickly sweet. “Get ready to break a new record.”

* * *

Sirius appeared to have trailed behind her through the Floo and he was waiting outside the office door in tense silence when she finally exited with his best mates.

“Is…” His eyes flicked between James, Remus and Hermione with rapid speed. “Is everything okay?”

“Better than okay,” she declared with a prompt nod to Remus and James. “Go on, tell Sirius what you learned today.”

James looked as close to pouting as she had ever seen, and it reminded her so much of Harry that she nearly laughed.

_Nearly._

She was still furious that they had caused her months of turmoil.

Remus kicked at the carpet with his shoe and muttered, “We are not in the middle ages and women are not property. Hermione is her own person, an independent witch who doesn’t need—”

She cleared her throat.

“—or _want_ us to guard her virtue.”

With another scathing look from Hermione, Remus added, “Virtue being an antiquated patriarchal social construct designed to suppress and control women by claiming ownership over their bodily autonomy.” 

James glared at Sirius whose face was growing with a devilish smirk. “There has been a revision of the original rules. You can look. You can talk.” His eyes narrowed further. “ _You can’t touch._ ”

Hermione gave him a slight smack on the arm.

“Fine. You can touch, but only with verbal consent!” Remus amended James’ words. “Clear, sober—” he grimaced, his lips twisting to the side as of the words pained him to say “— _enthusiastic_ verbal consent.”

Sirius’ gaze snapped to Hermione’s in disbelief.

“Yes, we were wrong to try to interfere or influence your decisions, but can you blame us?” James gestured between Sirius and Hermione. “I mean, _honestly_.”

“I understand that just because I’m grown you haven’t stopped worrying about me, but you have to let me make my own choices.” Her voice grew softer, kinder, despite her anger. “I love that I can be part of your family. It’s just...I’m at the age where we need these boundaries. I need your trust.”

“We trust you, I promise that we do.” Remus’ shoulders weighed down with shame. “We’re sorry, Hermione.”

She lifted on her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss to each of their cheeks. “Forgiven. Do it again and I’ll set Ginny off on you. What made you think this was acceptable in the first place?”

“We just remember what it was like to be that age,” James grumbled, still eyeing Sirius. “We didn’t want either of you to get hurt.”

“You did hurt us,” she whispered, watching as their expressions crumpled with regret.

With several confident strides, Sirius crossed the room to her, hooked his arm around her waist and spun her to face him. “You are impossibly attractive when you’re bossy.”

“Assertive,” she corrected with an upturn of her nose. “I’ll get into the misogynistic connotation of the word ‘bossy’ after you’re done kissing me because I’m far too impatient to wait any longer.”

His lips curved into a half smirk before he lowered them to hers, kissing with such fervor that her head spun. She dragged the kiss on a bit longer than necessary out of sheer spite for the others in the room.

The sound of fake retching in the background pulled her from the moment and Sirius pulled her back to a standing position. 

“You two are already on thin ice,” she muttered. “Don’t make me tattle to your wives.”

It was impossible to tell who had made the sound as both James and Remus were looking anywhere but at them. Her suspicions told her it was James, who was staring at the floor as if the pattern on the rug he saw daily was suddenly fascinating.

Sirius let go of her long enough to snag the decanter from the corner of the room, pouring a small line of whisky in a single glass before returning to offer it to Hermione.

She eyed the glass, uncertain of his intentions. “Sirius, it’s half eight in the morning.”

“Just go with it,” he insisted, pushing the glass into her hands. “You can’t play two truths and a lie without it.” One by one, he listed off his statements with a wink, reminding her of the first night they connected over the drinking game. “These past few days have been the best of my life, you feel more like home than anywhere I’ve ever been, and I want you to be my girlfriend because I can’t go another second more without knowing you’re completely mine.”

His smokey silver eyes seared into her soul, and she whispered, “I…is the first one the lie?”

“Actually—that was three truths,” he grinned, brushing a rogue curl out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. “I suppose you’re right. I’m rubbish at this game.”

“Yes.” The word tumbled from her lips, unable to consider any other answer. “I want that too, to be your girlfriend.”

When he leaned in closer to whisper in her ear, his stubble brushed against her cheek. “As your _boyfriend_ ”—the title made a shiver of delight shoot down her spine—“my first official act of business is to request your company at my godson’s wedding. For you, I’ll even wear dress robes.”

Chest swelling with pure happiness, she replied, “Did I bake Remus a homemade birthday cake when I was fifteen and accidentally forget the baking powder?”

His thumb traced along her jawline, pushing her chin up gently to meet his gaze. “Is that a yes?”

“It was like a sad, dense chocolate pancake. He ate it anyway.” She laughed, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

At the same time, as if suddenly remembering that they weren’t alone, Sirius and Hermione turned to the other occupants in the room.

“I suppose you could do worse,” James quipped with a shrug, giving Hermione a small smile. “Ginny had already seated the two of you together at the reception. I have my suspicions she’s been planning your relationship since Sirius arrived.” 

Hermione’s stomach sank as she realised the wedding was still a few months away. She didn’t know how much time she had left with Sirius. As much as she had tried to ignore the thought, the necklace was sitting in her desk drawer at home, taunting her. 

A pang of guilt filled her chest and a lump formed in her throat as Sirius wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I won’t be home when you get back from work today; we made plans weeks ago to stay with Moony tonight. It’s his time of the month and the anniversary of the first time we spent his transformation with him back at school.”

A crease formed between her brows and she twisted to look up at him. “His ‘time of the month’? Why are you saying it like that? Like he’s on the rag?”

“More like on the bane,” Sirius quipped back, spinning her to face him.

It became a challenge and she tried to trip him up. “Aunt Flo.”

“Aunt Fur.” He whispered, “You’re making this too easy, Starling.”

“Shark week.”

“Wolf week.”

“Monthly visitor.”

With a mischievous smirk, he replied, “I don’t even need to change that one.” 

Remus finally spoke up, “Are you done yet?”

“Never,” Sirius replied with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

“I imagine the two of you can manage to be apart for a single night.”

Her cheeks flushed and her grip on the glass tightened. “Well, of course.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure of that, Moony.” Sirius winked at Hermione and she felt her face heat further. 

Remus took the glass from her hand and downed the whisky in a single gulp, his lips pursing from the taste.

“It’ll be like old times’ sake,” Sirius mused before clicking his tongue and adding, “though I never did have a girlfriend worrying about me when I was out late in those days.”

“First time for everything, right Padfoot?” James teased.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Remus muttered with a shake of his head.

Sirius placed a kiss on her lips. “Just so you miss me.”

She thought back to the conversation they’d had months ago on the roof after her birthday party. Sirius had said he lost everything, that he’d go back for all the moments he missed if he could. And now she had the Time-Turner stashed away in her desk, ready to bring him back to his old life, to his life without her.

Eyes stinging with tears, she quickly blinked them away and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I already miss you.”


	22. Waiting for this Moment

The flat was entirely too quiet and Hermione didn’t quite know what to do with a night to herself. In all the years she’d known Remus, she could count on one hand the number of times he’d mentioned his condition and transformation. 

When she found out about his lycanthropy, it hardly seemed out of the ordinary. At the time, she was new to the magical world and the nonchalant way James mentioned it had given her the impression that it was commonplace. However, after she began reading more about magical beings, she realised that Remus was tortured by the rare affliction. 

Though she was eager to have more time with Sirius now that he didn’t feel a duty to honour his promise to his mates, she couldn’t ask him to stay home with her, knowing how sensitive Remus was during the full moon. The fact that he allowed James and Sirius to spend the night with him—even with Wolfsbane—was a testament to the bond the three friends shared.

She felt another wave of nausea when she thought about the decades they went without Sirius. 

The ones she could give back with the Time Turner.

Pushing the thought from her mind, she decided to begin her night by fixing supper. She followed her meal with a long bath using a new strawberry sugar scrub that her mum had gifted her for her birthday. With her hair wrapped up and her muscles relaxed, she collapsed onto the sofa in the living room, kicking up her feet and finally opening the front cover of her new book from Sirius.

The sound of the clock next to the front door grew louder with each passing second, echoing through the flat.

After just a few minutes of staring at the first page without being able to focus, she closed the book with a huff and tossed it onto the end table with a thud. Her face fell into her hands and she listened to the ticking of the clock.

She found herself wandering back to her bedroom and hesitating in front of the closed drawer of her desk, the one in the bottom right hand corner that was riddled with charms and warded to open only for her. 

A burst of fear sped through her veins as she pulled the handle and lifted the gold chain that was waiting inside.

For the first time since she slipped the Time-Turner into her coat pocket, she inspected it closer. It looked identical to the one she’d had in school, lent to her by the Ministry for a year of classes. In order for her application to be approved, she had to undergo weeks of screening where they reviewed her grades, spoke to her professors, and sent a permission form to her parents. 

Even after the initial wave of approvals, she had to work with Unspeakables for several hours to cover the history and magic of Time-Turners before they entrusted one in her care. Time was a sensitive branch of magic, known for being unstable in the best circumstances, and as such, the objects that manipulated time were heavily regulated.

Her thumb brushed across the familiar inscription which looped around the pendent, the words carved into goblin-forged gold. ‘ _I mark the hours, every one, nor have I yet outrun the sun. My use and value, unto you, are gauged by what you have to do_.’

There was a small number etched into the ridge of the gold, indicating that it was indeed taken directly from the Ministry.

With a shaky hand, she placed the necklace on the top of her desk and tapped it once with her wand, running a quick diagnostic spell. The magical signature was weak, barely a faint hum. Her lips twisted downward as she peered at the object. 

In its current state, it was non-functional. 

Time travel required an immense amount of magical energy, even for a short, hour-long trip. If she wanted to send Sirius back twenty years, she would need to find a way to strengthen the necklace so it had the power necessary to transport him back. 

Despite herself, she couldn’t help but feel an intense relief seep into her bones.

They had a little more time together.

* * *

After arriving home from work the next night, Hermione changed into her favourite outfit—an oversized shirt, comfortable pair of loose shorts, and fuzzy socks to keep her toes warm. Piling her hair up on the top of her head, she secured it with a band and shuffled into the kitchen to start supper. 

By the time Sirius stepped through the Floo, thankfully not covered in grease and grime this time, she had turned off the stovetop and was just finishing up the pasta. A pair of hands slipped around her waist as she slowly emptied the pot, a puff of steam rising from the motion. 

“Hey, you,” she murmured, setting the colander down in the sink and wrapping her arms around herself, resting her hands on top of his.

Sirius placed a kiss on the curve where her neck met her shoulder and hummed appreciatively against her skin. “How was your day?”

Arching into his attentions, she exhaled a breathy sigh as his lips moved upward. “It’s getting significantly better by the minute.”

“Is it, now?” 

She heard the smirk in his voice.

“I’m making spaghetti bolognese, if you’re interested.”

His hands slipped out from under hers, travelling lower. It was then that she noticed the firm press of his cock against the curve of her arse. “I had something else in mind. I’d rather skip right to dessert. I’ve had a particular craving all day for something _sweet_.”

“Oh,” she breathed, subconsciously shifting her weight and providing better access for his fingertips, allowing them to slip beneath the hem of her shirt and dance along the elastic band of her shorts. “I can make something else then, if you want. I think I still have some chocolate in the cupboards.”

“My love, you misunderstand.” He tutted quietly as his fingers traveled further south and circled her clit over her knickers. She fought back a whimper when he added, “You are the dessert.”

Turning to face him, her eyes grew wide at the same time his wicked grin spread across his lips. 

“You—” She all but squealed when he lifted her up and placed her on the countertop. 

He was lowering himself before she had the chance to blink, his hands shimmying her shorts and knickers off, followed by her socks. “You’re all I can think about; your pretty little mouth on my cock, how I missed the chance to taste you, to feel your thighs shaking around me as you fell apart,” he muttered, and she felt herself growing wetter with each word. “How many times can I make you come for me tonight, Hermione?”

A crimson blush covered her cheeks and she let out a needy sound at the question, her thighs parting without hesitation. Balancing her legs over his shoulders, he pressed a single kiss to her inner thigh, tickling the skin with his scruff.

When Sirius’ lips closed around her throbbing clit, she tossed her head back against the cupboard behind her and gasped.

Time felt nonexistent while he flicked his tongue against the sensitive nub in lazy strokes, enough to tease but not satisfy her needs. It was equal parts torture and bliss as her cunt clenched around nothing, aching from the emptiness she felt. The only coherent thought she had was how big his cock had felt in her mouth the night before, and how _good_ he would feel inside her.

When she couldn’t take it any longer, she heard herself begging, “I need more. Please, Sirius, I need—” 

Two of his thick fingers sank into her dripping heat, blinding her with pleasure.

“I know what you need,” he all but growled against her, his fingers setting on a punishing pace that made her feel dizzy with each plunge. The stretch felt so good she wanted to sob. “I’ve waited so long for this, I’m going to take my time with you.” 

She watched him devour her, her gaze skirting across the definition of the muscles in his neck and shoulders while he sucked and licked at her sex like she was the best thing he’d ever tasted. With every heaving breath, she silently thanked the gods that their flat had silencing charms on the walls or her moans would have been heard out in the car park.

Her fingers fisted in his hair and she canted her hips closer to him, her thighs quivering with the pleasure that was building and building and _building_ in her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought the tug on his hair might be painful, but he tightened his hold on her hip in response, pinning her in place as his lips latched to her cunt.

Licking a messy ribbon along her parted slit, he ground the flat of his tongue against her. “You’ll be a good girl and come for me, won’t you, Hermione?”

She felt his hot breath dance across her core with each punctuated word. 

Unable to muster even a whimper in response, Hermione chased her release with reckless abandon. As she neared her peak, her hips jerked and lost their rhythm. 

When he curled his fingers up just right and his calloused tips brushed along the soft velvet of her walls, she knew she wouldn’t last. Every nerve in her body thrummed as blood rushed to her ears and the blinding pressure in her core finally snapped.

Sirius pushed through each wave as it shuddered through her, maintaining the rush of pleasure as he worked her through her climax. 

The assault on her swollen cunt continued, relentless in his ministrations until he had drawn another orgasm from her and stars burst in her vision. It was only when she grew too sensitive that she had to pull away from his mouth, lest he try for a third.

He looked up at her with flushed cheeks, wild hair, and a smirk that made her pulse skip.

“Your cunt is divine, Starling. I’d give up the world just to feel you on my cock,” he whispered, his voice dripping with need. He licked his lips before capturing hers, the subtle taste of her arousal present on his tongue as he kissed her.

As she collapsed against the cupboard, boneless, Hermione felt her libido flare back to life at the prospect of feeling him inside her. “You might have to carry me to the bed. I don’t think I can walk.”

“Well, I suppose I haven’t lost my touch if you’re doubting your ability to walk.” He picked her up as if she were weightless, one hand under her knees and the other under her shoulder. Her legs still quaked with aftershocks while he quickly crossed the flat, carrying her into his bedroom.

The weight of his body felt solid and comforting as she sank into the blankets on his bed. He slanted his lips against hers, his fingers toying with the material of her shirt and she lifted her shoulders up, making way for him to tug it up and off. She mimicked the motion, removing his shirt and pushing impatiently at his trousers to no avail. 

He smiled into the kiss and helped her unbutton the trousers, slipping them down and onto the floor beside the bed. His thighs pushed her legs apart as he nestled himself between her legs, with only his thin trunks separating them. He shifted his weight to the side, pushing two fingers back into her heat and rocking into the motion. 

Breaking away from his lips she panted, “Sirius, I need more than your fingers, I want—” She gasped just as he added a third, catching her off-guard.

“You’re so tight. I need to make sure you’re relaxed.” His voice lowered dangerously and his eyes glinted with an unspoken promise. “I need to make sure I’ll fit.”

“Oh _fuck_ ,” she keened, unable to stop herself from pushing up against his fingers. “I need you.” The words held significance and a sense of vulnerability flooded with as she admitted just how much she needed him in every sense of the word.

“I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.” He sealed the promise with a press of his lips.

He removed his trunks and she swallowed, staring wide-eyed at his cock. She couldn’t believe that all of it could possibly fit inside her, but she’d had him in her mouth and the thought of how he might _feel_ threatened to make her come apart. Her hand wrapped around the base, giving a series of deliberate strokes, the warmth of him smooth against her palm. Biting back a moan, Sirius drew back and settled himself back between her legs, this time with nothing between them. 

The tip of his cock brushed through her slick folds, teasing her with each pass.

His smoky silver gaze met her brown eyes with an intensity that left her breathless. Anticipation flooded through her veins as the tip of his cock kissed her entrance. One hand gripped at her hip and the other palmed her breast as he dipped his head, flicking and circling her taut nipple with the tip of his tongue.

With each slow deliberate press of his hips as he entered her, she knew nothing would ever feel better than this.

Even though Sirius had tried to relax and prepare her body with her earlier orgasms, it took several short thrusts to stretch her enough to fit him. She angled her hips upward and felt her walls flutter around every throbbing inch he gave her.

“Can you take a little more for me, love?” he whispered, his breath hot on her throat and his voice gentle but strained.

She nodded in reply, too overwhelmed by the sensation of him to form words. When their hips met, he held himself still for a moment, giving her time to adjust to the size of him. His lips seared against hers, and she felt their magic tangle together, dancing in the air around them.

They were joined together in a way she’d never felt before, and he filled her until there was nowhere else to go, until she felt impossibly full.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, prompting him to move. He pulled out just a fraction, neither of them breathing as he thrust back in. Repeating the motion, he withdrew slowly, and she felt her cunt clinging to him, begging him not to leave her feeling so empty again. 

Desperate to meet his thrusts, she anchored her heels into the mattress and lifted her hips, matching his rhythm. The heavy drag of his cock along her walls made her gasp and her head spun with each snap of his hips. His head dipped to her ear, pressing words into her skin. 

He whispered soft praises, how good she felt, how perfect she was, how he loved the sounds she made, how he’d never leave her wanting again. Each word sank into her very essence, filling her soul until she felt tears pricking at her eyes.

“Sirius— _Sirius."_

At the sound of his name, he pulled out until only the tip was still inside her and then snapped his hips forward sharply, sheathing himself to the hilt in one long thrust. His darkened eyes watched her intently, drinking in every breath, every moan, every flutter of her lashes as he repeated the motion again and again.

“One more for me, love.” He gripped her hips tighter, shifting and changing the angle, hitting a spot she’d never felt before. 

“It’s too much, I can’t.” Nearly delirious, she teetered on the precipice of another release, hands grasping for purchase along the planes of his back. “Please, I already feel so good.”

“One more.”

His breathing grew erratic, shortening in time with the tightening of her walls. She felt his hand lower between them and then he was swirling frantic circles against her clit, drawing her closer to oblivion. 

The feeling of unbridled magic coursed through her veins, passing back and forth between them, as he kissed her once more. 

A single thought flew through her mind, that nothing had ever felt so _right_. It was as if she had been waiting her entire life for him, for this moment.

White hot pleasure consumed her, pulling her under as he greedily swallowed her moans. Her cunt clenched around him and he gasped her name, finding his release inside her.

For one dizzying moment, her lungs held no breath, and time felt suspended around them. They came down together. Nose to nose, they shared the same air, a pair of matching grins spreading across their lips.

“Hi,” she said softly, counting each lash above his eyes, taking in the way the grey irises shone in the light.

He brushed a lock of hair from her collarbone, his finger trailing along the dip. “Hi.” 

The way he looked at her felt like the sight of the first bloom breaking through the snow at the onset of spring. 

When he pulled out of her, she immediately felt the loss of him, wanting nothing more than to keep him there forever. Gathering her in his arms, he kissed her, soft, slow, and sweet, drawing out a sigh of contentment as she melted into him.

She tucked herself under his arm and rested her head on his chest. His ribcage rose and fell with each breath, the cadence slowing as he came down from his high. Her finger traced along his chest, taking in the small imperfections that she’d never noticed before. There was a faint scar along his shoulder—just below the lion tattoo—that had turned white with age, a smattering of dark chest hair that grazed against her cheek, and a small bruise above his hip.

She wanted to remember it all.

That night, she fell asleep listening to the sound of his heartbeat, supper long forgotten.

* * *

Hermione’s manager, Thomas, had been pestering her to use her paid time off for months, so she wasn’t surprised when her request to take the day was immediately approved. Even though it was last minute, Thomas had also added a second day to the approval with a note telling her to enjoy her time off.

Her heart ached whenever she thought of losing Sirius. Knowing their time together was limited, she wanted to make the most of it. When she told him that she took work off to spend the next two days with him, he had picked her up and spun around in excitement.

With every moment they spent together, she felt the knot in her stomach growing tighter and tighter. It was getting harder to imagine saying goodbye to him.

“Here is it,” Sirius announced with a proud grin, throwing his hands up and gesturing to the shop in front of them. 

He unlocked the door and opened it, allowing her to step through. Giving her a quick tour, he spoke excitedly about every little detail. “We built a counter and till to the left, and that door leads to the shop where Marshall and I have been working on some builds. Then we have a storage unit and a small waiting area for customers that I might expand to create a showroom once we have more models available.”

The shop was much larger than she had anticipated based on his earlier description. From what she could see, he had plenty of room to grow his business. One wall was lined entirely with glass, providing a perfect view for window shoppers from the main street. She could already envision a few motorcycles out for display to show off the quality of his builds.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, as her hands clasped over her chest, overcome with pride for what he had built. 

He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “It’s all because you encouraged me to start this. I’ve been so excited to show you the progress. When I bought the place, it was just one big dusty warehouse. We still have to add some furnishings to this main entrance but I think the first step is a coat of fresh paint.”

When she noticed paint cans next to a stack of rollers and brushes in the corner, her face lit up. “Are we painting today?”

“I thought it might be fun. Remus told me how you made him and Tonks paint my room without magic when you first moved into the flat.” He picked up a container and two paint rollers, handing one of them to Hermione. “We will have to use magic for the top half of the walls since the ceilings are taller than the flat, but I thought I could appease you and we could at least start the job.”

She practically skipped over to the first wall. “I am so excited; there’s _nothing_ like the satisfaction of transforming the space by painting it yourself.”

“We’ll see how I feel when it’s done. I’ve never actually painted a room.”

With a gasp, she placed a hand on his bicep. “I promise I’ll be gentle for your first time. We can go slow. I’ll show you the proper technique and rhythm and how to work with it when it’s wet.”

“If someone told me a witch like you existed, I might’ve come to the future sooner.” He shook his head and chuckled, popping the lid off the can before dumping the first portion of paint into a pan on the ground between them. 

“The present,” she corrected on instinct, trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach at his comment. She coated her foam roller in paint and began the first broad stroke across the wall. “And we could’ve been together much sooner if you hadn’t listened to James and Remus with their inappropriate use of boundaries on my love life.” 

Tutting under his breath, he followed her lead with his own roller. “It’s not my fault you don’t listen when I talk. I mentioned it forever ago. Remember when you taught me how to make cocoa? I told you I wasn’t allowed to sleep with you.”

She turned to stare at him, pausing with her arm extended. Her mouth dropped open. “What?! How on earth was I supposed to know you were actually serious for once?” The corner of his lips twitched and he opened his mouth only for her to cut him off with a growl. “I swear to god if you say you’re always Sirius I will have your bollocks.”

“You’re so hot when you’re riled up.”

She bit back a smile at that, swatting at his arm with her free hand. “You’re incorrigible. I don’t understand how you’d think I knew. Did I act like I knew when I accosted you on the sofa?”

His eyes turned upward and he smiled, as if reliving the moment. “That was a great night. But also, you had _just_ told me to punch James so yes, I thought you knew and didn’t care.”

“I don’t care!”

“See?”

With a huff, she set the roller down, the edge of the foam pad resting against the pan of paint. “He had no right to dictate that. Plus, you had your one favour. Why didn’t you use that to ease up on the rules?”

He gave her a look of bewilderment, as if she’d sprouted wings. “I didn’t even know it was something you wanted! I can’t imagine the look on your face if you found out your flatmate that you weren’t even interested in bartered a ghost wedgie bet with your dads to have the chance to date you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him.

“After the Quidditch match I was going to ask if I even had a chance, but then you said the kiss was nothing and it took me the whole week just to be able to face you again. I thought if I used the favour to loosen their rules that I would’ve imploded the family just to get rejected again.”

“But you’re the one who rejected me, even if you thought you were the one to kiss me—which you weren’t—you still ran away.” The corners of her lips turned downward at the memory.

“You just looked so fucking kissable and then I got in my head, and I already told you that I just _panicked_.” His jaw tightened and it looked like he was biting the inside of his cheek. “I thought I ruined everything.”

She threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his lips, catching him off guard. Stumbling back a step, his free arm looped around her waist to pull her to him and steady them both. “Only you could take something that obnoxious and make it sound almost sweet. ‘So fucking kissable’?”

“So. Fucking. Kissable.” He punctuated each word with a kiss.

He dropped the brush, cupping her cheeks with both his hands, and in the back of her mind she heard the clang and squish of the roller falling beside them. She felt the very distinct sensation of wet paint on her skin and, when Sirius pulled away from the kiss, she knew he had spread pale grey paint along her cheek.

“Sirius!” She rubbed the spot with her palm, smearing the dab of paint.

His eyes widened and his hand clasped over his mouth in shock but it grew with a traitorous grin. “Shit! I didn’t realise I had paint on me!”

When his hand fell, she noticed he had rubbed part of the paint on himself with the motion. She leaned down, dipping her index finger into the paint and gave him a wicked smile just before dragging her finger from the apple of his cheek down to the curve of his neck. Catching her hand, he smirked and twisted her wrist until the pad of her finger pressed to her own nose.

“ _That_ was an act of war, Starling,” he whispered, his voice dangerously low. He picked up a smaller handheld brush, dipped it into the paint, and trailed the bristles along her arm, spreading paint down her forearm.

She laughed brightly as she reached to wrestle the brush from his hands, pushing it towards him and splattering paint on the both of them in the process. He pressed his lips to hers once more, stifling her giggle and releasing his hold on the brush, his arms wrapping around her waist. The brush clattered to the floor and she looped her arms around his neck, pulling him flush against her. 

A bell rang and only then did Hermione break their kiss, looking over her shoulder at the entrance to the shop.

Cassidy Marshall stood in the threshold, balancing several boxes in her arms as she used her hip to shut the front door. Her long hair was tied up into a bun, and she wore a regular outfit of denims, a shirt, and trainers. When she saw Hermione and Sirius, she lit up with a giant smile. “Well, don’t let me interrupt the lovebirds!” 

Hermione felt her cheeks heat, like they were caught snogging in a school alcove by a Prefect, and she took a small step away from Sirius. 

With a shrug of her shoulders and lift of her hands, Cassidy added, “I picked up the parts you ordered, for the—”

He cleared his throat abruptly and half jogged over to her to snag the boxes from her. “Thank you!”

“I hope you know I had to deal with that creepy guy with the grey beard and leery eyes again,” she informed him, her voice growing louder as he carried the supplies towards the door to the storage unit. “You owe me!”

Sirius muttered something Hermione couldn’t understand under his breath just before he disappeared to the back room. She could hear the sound of boxes ripping open and metal clanging on the shelves.

When Hermione turned back to face Cassidy, she was watching her with a pleased expression. “I see the two of you figured things out.”

Not quite knowing how to respond, Hermione smiled. “It took a bit, but we did. I didn’t mean to interrupt your night on Saturday with everything that happened.”

“Between you and me, he was a complete mess,” Cassidy lowered her voice, her gaze flickering to the door and back to Hermione. “I had to talk him out of ordering a whole bottle of hard liquor at the bar. He was already a handful of shots in by the time we ran into him. The last thing he needed was to get shitface drunk before you came home.”

“Thank you for stopping him.” The words felt entirely inadequate.

Cassidy’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I just hope you’re serious about him, okay? I swear, you’re all he talks about when we work together—well, you, and his friends, and this shop. And it’s not my place, but he’s one of the good ones and I don’t want to see him hurt again.”

She felt her heart clench in her chest. “I know.”

There was a heavy silence in the air between them before Cassidy finally spoke. “Did you know, out of all of London, he’s the only one who even entertained an interview with me?”

With a shake of her head, Hermione frowned, unsure of her meaning.

After a beat, Cassidy wrapped her arms around herself and sighed. “I’ve filled out over three dozen applications around the city over the past year and he was the first one to care about my skill set and not just my status.”

Hermione’s confusion must’ve shown on her face because Cassidy’s eyes shone and she quickly blinked away the building tears.

“He didn’t even tell you, gods.” She sounded incredulous and she took a steadying breath before continuing. “I went through a pretty rough phase in my early twenties, spent a lot of time around bad people. I ended up in St. Mungos just before my twenty-fourth birthday and that’s where I met my girlfriend, Abigail. She was the healer who fixed me up and helped me understand a werewolf bite wasn’t a death sentence.”

“You’re— _oh_.”

Cassidy gave her a kind smile. “They didn’t want to serve me at the bar because the owner knew what I was. Abigail tried to argue and I just wanted to leave and we got in a huge row outside because she thinks I should’ve stayed and demanded service.” Her shoulders slouched forward with a heavy weight. “She doesn’t understand what it’s like, how I get tired of fighting for every inch of progress.”

“That’s why you two went back to the flat instead of staying at the bar.” Hermione pieced it together aloud, her voice just above a whisper.

“Sirius told the barkeep to fuck off and we Flooed into the flat maybe five minutes before you arrived. He was so kind when he didn’t have to be. He let me go pick out a bottle of wine and said we’d watch some Muggle film with you whenever you came back.”

Her lips twisted off to the side and she shuffled her weight. “I didn’t realise...sorry that we never got around to the film, that night was a bit of a mess.”

Cassidy’s features softened. “Don’t apologise, I was happy to leave so he could be there for you. I’ve had plenty of bad dates myself, and it looks like it all worked out in the end, right?”

Hermione nodded, processing everything she’d just heard. It all made complete sense. Of course he would’ve stuck up for Cassidy, just like he’d done for Remus for half his life. He did what he’d always done—what he thought was right—even if it was rash. He stepped up when no one else would because he knew what it was like to be the one who didn’t fit into the mould, the one left behind. 

Sometimes he was so _good_ it made her heart ache.

Sirius popped out from the back room, approaching them with a cautious smile. “Everything alright?”

“Of course,” Hermione replied, her eyes caught on the paint on his clothes and body. “Oh my god.” She looked down at herself and back at Cassidy. “We are covered in paint and you didn’t even mention it?”

Cassidy shrugged and winked. “I don’t kink shame. Just please clean up before I have to work here tomorrow. See you later, boss!” she sang out before slipping through the front door.

Hermione looked at him with wild eyes. “Is paint a kink? How does that even work?”

An impish grin spread across his lips and he retrieved his wand, closing the blinds over the glass windows and locking the door in a single wave. “How about we break in the shop and find out?”

His lips caught hers before she was able to get out the word _‘yes’_.


	23. Christmas Morning

The sun crept into the room, filling it with light. Hermione shifted her weight and rolled over to her side, turning face to face with a sleeping Sirius.

She loved everything about sleeping next to him. 

She loved the way her bed smelled like him, she loved the feel of his body—warm and firm—pressed against her throughout the night, she loved the melodic sound of his breathing and the occasional snore that was so small that it made her heart burst.

Excluding the night of the full moon that Sirius spent with Remus and James, they hadn’t slept apart since they visited Grimmauld Place. It was an unspoken thing, that at the end of each day they’d pick one of the beds and tangle themselves up in it. The only downside she’d found to sleeping with Sirius was that she was never fully rested. They’d stay up late into the night debating anything and everything, sharing stories from their pasts or talking about the future.

It was the conversations about the future that hurt the most.

Each day she fought an internal battle against herself, struggling with the moral greyness of continuing her relationship with Sirius. It seemed cruel, knowing that when he went back to the past their lives would both continue on without each other—two paths that would never meet again. In his new timeline, she would grow up with Harry and Ron, but this time Sirius would be there with James and Remus, reminiscing about a version of Hermione that would never exist in his new life. 

Despite it all, she still wanted to cling to the thought that he would still remember her this way.

It also felt dishonest to hide the Time-Turner—the deceit wore at her soul—but her biggest fear was that she would show him the broken necklace and then fail to make it operational again. She refused to be the one to give him the hope of returning to the past only to rip it away again.

She told herself she wouldn’t tell him about the Time-Turner until it was completely functional, but only for his sake.

And she almost believed herself.

“Good morning, love.” Sirius’ gravelly morning voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

A smile bloomed across her face and she scooched closer to him on the bed, laying her arm across his waist. “Merry Christmas.”

His eyes gained a certain level of alertness and he sat up abruptly, turning to her with a gasp. “It’s Christmas!”

“It’s Christmas,” she repeated in confirmation, stretching her arms out with a jaw-cracking yawn. “Will be all day long, too.”

“You cheeky witch,” he muttered under his breath, hopping out of bed and dragging her along with him. “I’ve been waiting months for today.”

Her brows lifted. “I hadn’t realised you were such a big fan of Christmas. You’ve never really mentioned the holiday before.”

He rummaged through her wardrobe, which had mysteriously begun to collect some of his clothing over the course of the past couple weeks. Pulling a jumper over his head, he beckoned her with an air of impatience. “Well, come on! I have a surprise for you.”

“What kind of surprise?” She fought back a laugh as he did a little jig to pull on his trousers.

“The surprising kind.” Giving her a pointed look, he zipped his fly and added, “You have one minute before I’m dragging your cute little arse out of this room. And you don’t have to be dressed for it, but I have a feeling you’d prefer it.”

Letting out a dramatic groan, she shuffled over to him and quickly dressed, selecting one of his shirts from the wardrobe. There was something about wearing his clothes that made her heart happy, and most mornings she couldn’t resist the temptation. “Are we leaving the flat for this surprise?”

He responded with an excited grin.

“Fine,” she grumbled, piling her hair up into a messy bun on the top of her head and securing it with a hair band. “But I want to come back after so I can get ready properly before we go over to the Potter’s, okay?”

“Deal.”

A few minutes later—with no cute little arses dragged out of the bedroom—she begrudgingly shrugged on her coat and followed Sirius out of the front door. They moved down the stairs to the storage unit that once held all of his possessions. 

“I didn’t realise you’d been using this space still,” she mused, pulling her coat tighter around herself to fend away the cold.

He turned to face her, leaning back on the door to the unit. “That was strategic, all part of the plan, it wouldn’t do to ruin the surprise,” he teased, scrunching up his face with a grin. “I wouldn’t have been able to hide a dragon from you in the flat, now would I?”

Her mouth dropped open in alarm and she instinctively took a step backwards. “Sirius Black!”

“Hermione Granger!”

“You did not buy me _a dragon_ ,” she said, her pitch raising to an unnaturally high level as she subconsciously strained her ears, listening for any hint of a creature behind the closed door. Even though she knew he was joking, her heart rate jumped at the thought of the Ministry being called to their flat on a tip about an illegal creature. If they did a search they’d find—

“I wouldn’t dare buy you a dragon after the _incident_.”

She cocked a single brow at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

He sighed, his shoulders dropping on the exhale. “Charlie wouldn’t help me smuggle one out of the reserve—he said no, even though I promised that we would be wonderful dragon parents and definitely not use it to overthrow the Ministry— _but_ I did get you the next best thing.”

She observed Sirius for a moment, noticing the nervous energy that seemed to radiate off him. 

“And exactly what is the next best thing to a dragon?” she asked, not quite sure she wanted the answer. She hoped it wasn’t anything that would eat Ollie or Hazel. 

Before she could finish the question, he had slipped behind her and covered her eyes with his hands. “Something that roars,” he began, his words filled with promise. “Something beautiful—” he leaned down, his lips just at the shell of her ear “—and something you can _ride_.” 

A moment later, she heard the familiar creaking of the unit door opening, and she assumed Sirius triggered it with magic.

“Ready for your Christmas gift?” he asked, the low baritone of his voice sending a shiver down her spine. She nodded, bringing his hands along with the motion.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, tickling her skin with his scruff, and pulled his hands away to reveal a motorbike with an obnoxiously large red bow on the back.

It was quite possibly the most stunning machine that Hermione had ever seen. She felt half numb with shock as she stepped into the unit, circling the bike with wide eyes.

“I built it just for you.”

She thought back to the dozens of sketches spread around the flat over the past few months, each detail that he had picked apart and redrew a dozen times. ‘ _It has to be better than perfect,_ ’ he had said.

His final design was sitting in front of her.

“So…what do you think?” Sirius prompted from behind, leaning over to try and gauge her reaction. 

Before she could reply, he hurried around and placed his thumb on the underside of her chin, gently tilting her head up towards him. His brow knitted together and he frowned with worry. “Why are you crying?” he murmured, cupping her face and brushing the pads of his thumbs along her cheeks, chasing away the teardrops.

She hadn’t realised she had been.

In lieu of a response, she merely buried herself in his arms, pressing her cheek to his chest. “You built me a bike!”

She could hear his smile when he replied, “Merry Christmas, love.”

“I love it so much.”

“There’s detailing on the front, the ‘S’ is for Starling.” He wrapped his arms around her tighter, resting his chin on the top of her head. From the angle, she thought he was probably suffocating in her messy bun but still, he didn’t pull away.

“When I saw the sketches, I thought that was going to stand for ‘Sirius’,” she laughed against his jumper, blinking away the mist in her eyes. “I can’t believe you went through all those designs just for _me_. I thought it was for something important.”

“But you _are_ something important.”

She clicked her tongue and ran her hands along his back, lacing them together at the base of his spine. “You know what I mean. I promise these are happy tears—I couldn’t love it any more.”

He sounded pleased at her praise and gave the smallest shrug. “Nothing but the absolute best for my witch.”

She pulled her head back to look up at him with a wide grin. “You started this _months_ ago; I wasn’t even your witch back then.”

“Oh, my little Starling, of course you were. You just didn’t know it yet.”

* * *

Nearly an hour later, they were finally on their way to the Potters’ for Christmas.

“Do your parents not celebrate Christmas morning with you?” Sirius asked, slipping his arms into his leather jacket and pocketing his gloves. “I completely forgot to ask.”

After retrieving her bag full of presents for the family—the one with an extension charm and feather-light charm for easy transportation—she shook her head. “Mum and dad have their own practice so they need to be open in the morning for emergencies. Lots of kids injure their teeth on hard sweets or roughhousing with new toys on Christmas Day.”

“Has it always been like that?”

She nodded. “When I was little, we always had presents later in the evening on Christmas Day. Then when I was older, I started spending the morning at the Potters’ and then went to see my parents for supper. Mum and dad are so excited to see you—” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him cocking his head in surprise. When he didn’t say anything in response, she hastily added, ''That is...if you want to come with me. I know they’d miss you if you couldn’t come; dad won’t stop asking me a million questions about your shop every time I talk to him and mum said she made the gingerbread cookies you’d mentioned on their last visit.”

There was such a prolonged silence that she stopped and looked over at Sirius. He looked a bit dazed, staring off into the fireplace.

“Sirius?”

He blinked, the spell broken. “Yes, I mean, of course I’ll go with you to see them tonight,” he insisted, his voice sounding a bit off. “I’ll bring a bottle of wine?”

“That would be perfect.” 

“Ready to go?” His hand brushed along the curve of her spine, settling on her lower back. “Do you have all the presents?”

She paused just in front of the bag of Floo Powder. “Oh! Oh my god, I was so distracted by the bike, I’d almost completely forgotten your gift.”

His lips twitched up and he watched with amusement as she dropped everything in her hands and ran back to her room.

“Merry Christmas, Sirius,” she said with a nervous smile, handing him a small red box with white stripes and a gold bow. She clasped her hands together to steady the tremble that ran through them.

She almost laughed at his befuddled expression as he retrieved a crumpled piece of paper out of the box.

“It’s a Portkey so make sure not to touch it yet,” she explained, delighting in the way his face lit up at the words, “it’s set to bring us to Italy. On our last trip to Grimmauld Place, I pulled Regulus aside and he told me where you two had gone as kids, you know, from the story of your favourite family trip. I rented a home by a vineyard for the weekend so we could have a vacation. We can go relax, drink good wine, eat gelato, tour the city, or anything that sounds fun. You’ve been working so hard on the shop and—” The rest of her sentence was swallowed up by his lips. 

“I can’t believe you.” He kissed her again before continuing, “Italy? It’s too much, and this had to have been expensive!”

“I’ve added plenty to my savings since living here,” she huffed, feeling flustered by his reaction, “and you’re always paying for our dates. It seemed only fair that I get to spoil you too.”

He shook his head but a slow smile grew on his face, reaching his eyes. “I know better than to argue with you; I’d never win.”

“Smart man.”

“So, when do we leave?”

“March,” she breathed out, her heart tightening at the thought. 

It was the timeline she’d given herself to fix the Time-Turner. 

They had until March.

It allowed them time to open the shop, to attend Harry’s wedding, to have one final weekend together.

“My lovely little witch, I’ll be counting down the days.”

Even though he had no way of knowing the magnitude of his words, they still pained her to hear.

* * *

“My-Me! Seeus!” Teddy squealed the moment they exited the fireplace hand-in-hand. “It’s time for presents!”

“I hope he never learns how to say our names properly,” Hermione confided with a coy smile. “It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Sirius returned the smile and wiggled his brows. “You might change your mind, won’t be so cute out of the mouth of a teenager.”

She stuck out her tongue, eliciting a bright laugh from Sirius.

“Presents!” he exclaimed, squeezing her hand before dropping it to follow the toddler. “Hermione, did you hear that? We can’t wait a moment longer, there are _presents_ to open.”

“Exactly who is the adult here?” she questioned in a rhetorical tone, resting her hands on her hips.

“We can’t hear your judgment over the sound of unwrapped gifts,” he whipped, chasing Teddy, who was in a fit of giggles, out of the room.

Christmases at the Potters’ had always been one of the best days of the year for Hermione. She loved sitting in the living room next to a roaring fire, opening presents, and decorating the tree. They would sing Christmas carols or frost cookies, and as kids, Hermione and Harry ate more icing from the spoons than they actually put onto the sugar cookies.

When the magic of the holiday started to fade into routine, Teddy was born and he breathed new life into the celebration. Witnessing him experience the wonder of Christmas through a child’s eyes made her appreciate her family and their traditions all the more. She quickly found that watching Sirius live out his first Potter family Christmas in the present brought her even more joy than she’d had with Teddy.

“You’re telling me you all do this every single year?” he breathed out in wonder, looking around the transformed living room. “Holy shit, it looks like a Christmas shop vomited in here”—he turned to Lily with raised hands, his palms facing her—“and I mean that as the _highest_ of compliments.”

Lily took a sip of her eggnog and gave him a skeptical sidelong glance.

In the corner of the room sat a towering evergreen, nearly twice the height of Hermione. Ribbons were already trailing around the tree with a glittering angel nestled at the top, and there was a container of ornaments placed off to the side ready to be hung. Presents from the other families were already at the base of the tree and she quickly unpacked her bag, adding more to the growing pile.

“Did you two already exchange gifts?” Remus prompted, and the knowing smile he gave Sirius told Hermione that they had already talked about the bike.

“Yep, I gave it to her this morning,” Sirius answered, snagging an ornament from the box and looping a hook through the hole at the top.

“Yeah you did,” Tonks whooped suggestively, only for Remus to shake his head and put his hand over her mouth to silence her lewd quip.

With a groan of disgust, he pulled his hand away and rubbed his palm on his trousers. “I can’t believe you _licked_ me!”

“You should’ve known better than to put your hand there.” Tonks settled back into her seat with a smug grin. “Let me have this one, okay? We’ve only been waiting for them to get together for _months_! Gods, we didn’t want to push you two into something you weren’t ready for but the palpable sexual tension was _killing_ me. It was more intense than my latest vampire romance novel, _Passions of the Healers_.”

Hermione placed a hand on her chest and passed a glare of disbelief to Remus. “ _Seriously_?”

“What about me?” Sirius quipped, twisting with the silver ornament in his hands.

“They still don’t know what their husbands did to us.” She didn’t look away from Remus, her stare burning a hole into him. “I told them to tell their wives.”

Sirius made a face. “I’m amazed you believed they would.” He passed the ornament to Teddy before lifting him up several feet into the air, and Teddy hung it towards the top of the tree.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lily and Tonks share a look, and Remus sunk further back into his seat.

“Exactly what did our husbands do?” Lily questioned, leaning forward to catch James’ eye. Her husband had just returned from the kitchen, a container of candy canes in hand, and paused mid-stride.

“I don’t need this again,” James all but whined, his grip tightening on the box. “We learned our lesson. Hermione already made us write a two-foot essay on the history of cultural suppression of female sexuality.”

Lily’s brows shot up.

“You made them write _essays_?” Sirius choked out a laugh, steadying Teddy on his shoulders.

“Don’t look at me like that! It was a valuable learning opportunity and I gave them fair marks with corrective feedback. They’re just lucky I didn’t make it ten feet.” Hermione shrugged without remorse. “Remus even added an extra six inches on the back with a written apology.”

“Course he did,” James grumbled, placing the box on the ground and unwrapping a candy cane. “Bloody teacher’s pet.”

* * *

The rest of the morning went by in a flurry of excitement. Harry and Ginny arrived from the Burrow, presents were unwrapped, far too many sweets were had, Hermione laughed until her face and stomach ached—a potential correlation to the overabundance of dessert—and at the end of it all, she was resting on the sofa with her head settled on Sirius’ shoulder and her arm tucked around his.

She couldn’t remember a time she ever felt more at peace.

“I would’ve killed for a family like this growing up,” he murmured, his eyes sparkling with the glow of the Christmas tree lights as he watched Teddy sneak a candy cane when he thought no one was looking.

Soft music played in the background and James and Lily were slow dancing by the edge of the room under the mistletoe, their heads tucked together as they swayed in place.

“They were all over each other just after school, but I have to say, I’m amazed they’re still like this after two decades and a kid.”

The corners of her lips turned up. “They’ve been like that for as long as I can remember and Harry and Ginny are well on their way to the same. They honestly think none of us have noticed the pair of them sneaking off together in the coincidental direction of his childhood bedroom,” she whispered in a conspiratorial manner, dragging the tips of her fingers up his forearm. “Last New Years, they started this ridiculous list they wanted to complete before the year was up. I don’t even want to tell you what they’re crossing off the list right now.”

He laughed, the sound warming her down to her bones. “You know, I don’t think I ever saw my parents touch outside of the occasional stiff dance at a charity ball. For the record, I would’ve been horrified and required immediate obliviation had I seen it, but still, it’s nice that you got to see a functional relationship first-hand.”

“Is it strange to see them all grown up? I know I’ve asked before but honestly I can’t imagine what it would be like to wake up tomorrow and see Ron and Harry married with adult children.”

“I can’t explain just how odd it really feels. When I first arrived in the future, every day I would wake up and think I was going to walk out into the living room and find a twenty-year-old Moony sipping on his morning tea, reading the paper, and complaining I didn’t do my share of the dishes.”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth and looked up to meet his eyes. “Instead, you had me.”

“Cutest flatmate I’ve ever had,” he teased. “Don’t tell Remus I said that, though. He takes those kinds of things personally.”

A peal of laughter bubbled up at that. “Sirius Black, what am I going to do with you?”

“I have a few ideas in mind,” he answered promptly, plucking up a rogue curl and twisting it gently around his finger before releasing it.

“Like overthrowing the Ministry?” she quipped, scrunching up her nose with a giggle.

“It’s like you can read my mind, Starling. I knew I picked the right strategic partner; your intuition and brilliance will come in handy when we’re organising our coup.”

* * *

An hour later, she was helping Harry and Ginny—who had reappeared looking moderately flushed with slightly disheveled clothing—clean up the dining room, packaging up the leftovers for everyone to split and take home. 

“Hermione, mind grabbing the boys?” Lily asked over her shoulder. “They’re still clearing up after the presents and it’s about time to start decorating the houses.”

Nodding in confirmation, Hermione exited the kitchen and made her way to the living room, following the echoing sound of chatter from the end of the hall. Just before she crossed the threshold, she caught her name and took a step back, peeking into the room. She could see a sliver of the three Marauders from her angle, but none of them noticed her.

“Speaking of, what did she think of the bike?” Remus prompted, collecting the piles of shredded wrapping and ribbons from around the living room into the rubbish bin.

“She cried.” Sirius’ voice sounded tight. He shoved a hand in his pocket and added, “But I don’t know, she said she liked it.”

James snorted. “You made her _cry_? Pads, mate, don’t fuck this up.”

Hermione could see Sirius freeze, his wide eyes caught on James. “ _What_? Why would you say that? Prongs—did she say something to you?”

There was a lingering pause in the air between them before Remus and James burst into laughter. “Oh, Merlin.”

“The name is Sirius, but yes, we get confused for the other frequently,” Sirius muttered dryly. “I don’t get what’s so funny.”

Remus leaned over to James and Hermione could barely make out his amused reply. “He’s so far gone he doesn’t even know what to do with himself.”

“Honestly, I can’t say I was thrilled when this whole thing with Hermione started, but so far it’s been worth its weight in pure entertainment value,” James added, snagging chocolate from the box on the mantel and popping it in his mouth.

“You two are the worst,” Sirius griped.

James clapped a hand on his shoulder and swallowed with a grin. “This, my dear friend, is just a little taste of payback from the years of teasing I had to endure from you during school.”

Tossing him a look of pure outrage, Sirius shrugged off his hand and scoffed, “That’s offensive, I’m not nearly as bad as you were!” 

“I wouldn’t say that with so much confidence, mate. I’ve never seen you as frazzled as you were the weekend she went out with Theo Nott,” James tutted, cocking his head. 

Though she couldn’t hear him, she was sure she saw him mouth the word ‘ _Junior_.’

“Let me ask you this, how did it feel when you watched her leave with another bloke?”

Hermione stilled, waiting on bated breath to hear his reply.

Sirius’ jaw tensed, and he shifted his weight. “Worst thing I ever felt,” he mumbled, kicking at the ground. “It was a bit like that week I had Mumblemumps _and_ the flu, mixed with the time Evan Rosier broke my ribs, only this time I couldn’t punch anything in retaliation.”

“Happens to the best of us.” Remus gave him a soft smile and vanished the contents of the rubbish bin. “Believe me, I didn’t plan on Tonks. You knew as much as anyone that I always thought because of my condition I’d end up alone. I never thought I’d have a wife, let alone a son.”

“And maybe we were a bit brash at the start, telling you to stay away from Hermione. I mean, I sure as hell wouldn’t have listened if someone told me the same with Lily.” James took off his glasses and used the edge of his jumper to clean them. 

“Prongs has a point. Though it’s exceedingly rare, we have been known to be wrong on occasion.”

Sirius guffawed.

“Pads, I think I speak for the both of us when I say that our teasing comes out of love.” James grinned. “I’m surprised you listened at all. When the two of you are together it’s almost like the rest of us don’t even exist.”

After a drawn out silence, Sirius dragged a hand through his messy hair and groaned. “Fuck. This is what it was like with Lily?”

James’ brows lifted into his fringe and he nodded.

“Bloody hell, I suddenly understand why you were half mental following her around like a lost puppy for six years”

“ _I was not_ —”

“—you were,” Remus confirmed with a smirk.

The sound of Ginny’s laughter travelled down the hall, and Hermione instinctively took a step back, not wanting to be caught listening in on their conversation.

She felt her heart claw up into her throat and she took careful steps away from the room, trying not to step on a creaky floorboard. This time, making intentional noise as if she had just now descended the hallway, she popped her head in the doorway, interrupting the conversation. 

“Hey, Teddy just woke up from his nap and he wants to start the gingerbread house competition,” she said, trying to keep her face neutral with no indication that she had been listening in.

“Think Sirius will be able to cause an upset this year?” James mused as he brushed past Hermione out of the doorway. “Tonks will have to give up her crown.”

Sirius’ mouth dropped open and he chased after James, tossing a wink at Hermione. “Wait! There’s an _actual_ crown?” When James didn’t reply, Sirius continued, “Don’t play with my emotions, Prongs. I need to know the stakes.”

With the two at a safe distance, Remus tilted his head closer to Hermione and he whispered, “Have fun eavesdropping?”

She gaped, her eyes flew over to an oblivious Sirius and James who were already halfway to the kitchen.

“Sensitive hearing, remember?” he winked. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Not like you didn’t know all that already.”

“Remus, I—”

He dropped an arm around her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “James and I really are sorry, you know. We were talking earlier and seeing the two of you together feels like the family’s finally complete.”

“Really?” Her voice broke on the last syllable and they stopped several feet short of the entryway into the dining room.

“Really. And there’s no time for tears, okay? It’s a happy day and Sirius will have my bollocks if I make you cry.”

She gave him a watery smile and wrapped her arms around his torso, sinking into the embrace.

“I have to say, I didn’t foresee the dynamic shift where he’s the overprotective one of the three of us.”

“Sirius Black! You give that back!” Tonks snarled.

“Tonks Lupin! You—” there was a brief pause “—will not win!”

Remus’ eyes squeezed shut and he let go of her, muttering, “They’re rhyming.”

“Terrible rhyming at that.” Her lips twisted to the side in a grimace.

“We better go stop them.”

Turning the corner, they saw Sirius standing with a jar of sweets above his head. Tonks was standing below him and hopping up, swatting at his hands. “It won’t count as a win if you cheat! You can’t hoard the best decorations!”

“This is _war_ ,” Sirius declared, twisting his torso so she was just out of reach. “Sacrifices have to be made.”

At that moment, Tonks’ elbow collided with his ribs and when he doubled down, she snagged the jar and sprinted to the other side of the table.

“Hermione, get the piping bags, royal icing, and a shit ton of fondant,” Sirius instructed, not breaking his glare at Tonks. “Don’t forget the rainbow gum drops.”

“Oh my god,” Hermione said under her breath. “They’ve gone completely mental.”

Remus shook his head and muttered, “In my defence, I told James the crown was a bad idea.”


	24. The Future Dragon Professor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side note, this chapter officially marks 100,000 words of Windswept!! The biggest thank you to all of you wonderful readers, I've loved every comment/kudo/fb interaction along the way 🥰❤️

“Are you sure you two are okay with this?” Remus’ eyes trailed around the living room and his hand gripped the strap to the bag slung over his shoulder. “You’ve never watched him by yourself for this long before.”

Fighting the desire to roll her eyes, Hermione puffed out a sigh. “Yes, Remus, for the dozenth time, we will gladly watch Teddy and he will still have all of his limbs when we return him.”

“At least the important ones,” Sirius clarified with a wiggle of his brows.

She shot him a scowl and extended her hand to Remus, palm up.

The bag slipped down Remus’ shoulder with a shrug and he handed it to Hermione, his eyes fixed on Sirius. “I can’t believe I even have to say this but just for the record, _all_ limbs are the important ones.”

“Of course they are. Now you need to get back before Tonks arrives and ruins the romantic anniversary that you’ve been planning for weeks.” Dropping the bag at her feet, Hermione nudged him towards the fireplace. “We’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Alright, his bedtime is eight, he can’t have any sugar or he’ll be an absolute terror, and he thinks he’s picky but he’ll eat any meat if you say it’s chicken. Oh! If he becomes too much to handle and you need a break, I packed his favourite film and make sure he doesn’t—”

“Moony.” Sirius threw his head back with an exaggerated groan. “He’s _three_ , how difficult could this be?”

Remus pressed a fist to his lips and confined his laugh to a choked sort of sound. “Yes. Of course, what was I thinking? The two of you know exactly what you’re doing. I’ll just leave you to it.” He pressed a quick kiss to his son’s cheek and disappeared back to through the fireplace. Teddy immediately rubbed the kiss away.

Kneeling down to Teddy’s eye level, Hermione asked, “Did you know that Uncle Sirius has _never_ made a snowman before?”

The toddler gasped and looked up at Sirius with wide eyes. “Seeus! Why not?”

“I’ve been rather busy, but Hermi—” He quickly corrected himself with a smile. “— _My-Me_ told me you’re a good teacher. Would you show me how?”

“Yes!” He hopped in place, squeezing his hands into excited fists. “Let’s go outside and I’ll show you. When I get big, I want to teach like my daddy!”

She brought her hand to her heart and looked over at Sirius. “Oh my god, he’s so precious.”

However, he was busy rummaging through the bag of clothing and toys that Remus had supplied for the night. He flipped a film over in his hands, a crease forming between his brows. “ _The Lion King_? Why would he send this with him?”

“It’s for kids, a cartoon with talking lions. Teddy’s _obsessed_ ; he can practically quote every word from it in his sleep.”

He made a face and dropped the film with a shake of his head. “That can stay in the bag. I’m not watching an annoying kids film tonight. I don’t know what Moony was thinking.”

After dumping out the rest of the contents, she began dressing Teddy before they went out to the yard to play in the snow. She was midway through tying a second scarf on him before she noticed Sirius staring at her with a look of incredulous amusement.

“What?”

“Can he even move his arms or legs in that snowsuit? Remus seemed rather concerned about his limbs and it doesn’t look like he can utilize any of them with that amount of padding.”

She placed her hands on her waist and stared at him. “It’s winter and we are going out in snow. He has to be warm.”

“But we have magic...” He genuinely sounded confused and his head cocked to the side. “He could go out in a swimming costume and a warming charm.”

“Well, excuse me for wanting to make sure he isn’t freezing,” she huffed, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I don’t want him to catch a cold.”

“He’s _sweating_ , Hermione.”

She blinked, looking down at the toddler who was now pink in the cheeks with a light sheen of perspiration on his forehead, clinging to his fringe. “Okay, fine. He can lose one of the scarves and his extra coat—but the rest stays! If we let him outside in the snow and he gets sick, Remus will never let us live it down.”

After two failed attempts of Teddy trying to bend his knees, Sirius ended up carrying the toddler down the stairs from the flat to the open field filled with snow. Though Hermione would never admit it, Sirius had been correct about the excess layers of clothing inhibiting mobility.

As soon as Teddy’s feet hit the ground, crunching the snow beneath his little boots, he bent over at the waist to gather a handful of fresh snow and brought it up to his lips. 

“Wait!” Hermione stopped him and then dusted the snow from his mittens. “Try this.” She leaned her head back and stuck out her tongue, catching a snowflake as it fell from the sky.

He obediently followed her lead and wiggled his tongue, giggling when several snowflakes melted in his mouth. “It’s cold!”

“You think snowflakes are fun, but watch this!” Sirius took a deep breath, tilted his head up towards the sky, and a billow of air escaped from between his lips, forming a cloud that dissipated above him.

Teddy gasped and his entire little body seemed to vibrate with excitement. “ _Like a dragon_!” he exclaimed, puffing his cheeks and mimicking Sirius, spitting with the action. 

Hermione’s hands flew up over her mouth and she let out a belly laugh. “Look what you’ve done now! That’s not even fair; you know his dream in life is to become a dragon.”

“I thought he wanted to be a professor?”

“He wants to be both.”

Sirius made a soft noise of appreciation. “If I had a dragon professor when I was at Hogwarts, I never would’ve missed a class. What do you think he’d teach?”

“Flying,” she quipped with a smile, turning her attention back to the toddler who was taking as much air into his lungs as possible. “He could fly alongside the broomsticks and coach Quidditch.”

“I was thinking Care of Magical Creatures but the more I consider it, the more I believe he would end up eating the creatures intended for the lesson. I suppose that students would certainly pay more attention in class since there’s nothing more terrifying than an angry dragon.”

“Just imagine the detentions if you didn’t.” She snorted at the thought. “Though I’d think writing lines for a dragon would be less intimidating than cleaning cauldrons for Snape.” 

“You’re telling me that you were actually _intimidated_ by Snivellus? What, were you worried his hair would cause a grease fire?”

She kicked at a pile of snow in front of her with the toe of her boot, avoiding eye contact. Though she had been friendly with Snape due to his friendship with James and Remus, he was rather terrifying as head of Slytherin house during their early years. “I’ll have you know it wasn’t just me! It can’t be proven, but in our first month of school, he made a boy faint from a single glare—though now that I think about it, it might’ve also been the fumes from Neville’s potion…”

“Okay, Snivellus aside, the real question is why would you think that a dragon would make you _write lines_ for punishment? Why not polish their gold or—”

“Dragons would never trust someone else with their gold,” she interjected. “And lines would be useful for a dragon because they can’t hold a quill.”

His head cocked to the side as he considered her point. “I see your point but also I feel like the risk to reward ratio is seriously skewed in that scenario. If you’re a dragon professor and a student has the bollocks to steal gold from you, they’ve _earned_ it.”

“Roar!” Teddy declared in his fiercest voice, currently in his second lap around the couple as he ran through the yard, his legs comically straight with each step. He teetered, shifting his weight from one leg to the next like a penguin.

“Teddy,” Hermione called out, trying to catch his arm as he zoomed past them as quickly as his restricted legs could take him. “It’s time to make a snowman.” She retrieved a carrot from her pocket and dangled it in front of him. “Do you know what this is?” 

“That’s a carrot!”

“Nope.” She wagged a finger in front of the toddler before leaning in closer, as if she had a secret, and whispered, “It’s a snowman nose.”

Teddy took the carrot in his hands and turned to Sirius, waving it in the air. “Seeus! I got the nose!”

* * *

One lopsided snowman and three snow angels later, the trio trekked back into the flat and peeled off their many layers of winter clothing. 

“My-meeeeee, I’m hungry,” Teddy whined, peeling off his socks.

“Hey, we told you to keep those on.” Sirius picked Teddy up and placed him on the chair, wrangling the discarded socks back onto his feet one by one. “No taking off your clothes in this flat unless you’re My-Me.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she swatted at Sirius’ arm. “Sirius Black! Not in front of Teddy. I’ll go make him some supper. Watch him so he doesn’t get into any trouble, okay?”

“Of course.” He waved her off with a smile just as Teddy kicked off his right sock.

Not twenty minutes later, she was portioning out the pasta between three plates, sprinkling extra cheese on top just the way Sirius preferred. She had heard noises while she was cooking—the sound of laughter and running around the room—but as she was carrying the plates over to the table, something made of glass shattered.

She set them down and popped her head out into the living room just in time to see Sirius transform from a black dog back into his human self, standing a foot away from a broken picture frame. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, raising his hands in front of himself, “it wasn’t me.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe? Why were you running anyway?”

“Teddy said he could beat me in a race but he never stipulated in which form. Honestly, it was his fault for not being more specific.”

It was then that she realised she couldn’t see the child in question. “Where is he?”

“What?”

“Where is Teddy?” she clarified, enunciating each syllable, skimming the room with growing panic.

“He’s right—” Sirius paused, with his hand out to his side. After a single beat, he turned back to Hermione. “We are...playing hide and seek.”

She frowned. “I thought you were racing.”

His eyes shifted to the side and his words were drawn out as he answered, “We _were_ racing...to the hiding spot.”

“We only have two bedrooms in this flat. How did you _lose_ Teddy?”

“It’s not my fault that he blends in with his surroundings!” He lifted up a cushion from the sofa and looked under it.

“Seriously, Sirius?”

“What?” He dropped the pillow and looked over at her.

“Teddy’s a Metamorphmagus, not a chameleon!”

* * *

“I’m _hungry_ ,” Teddy whined, swinging his feet back and forth until they were kicking against the sofa. 

“I told you to eat supper,” Hermione reminded him, tilting her head and pressing her lips into a thin line. She was trying to have more patience than she felt, which was already wearing thin. “You’re the one who picked at it for half an hour and refused to eat more than two bites.”

He blew a raspberry with his tongue, his cheeks puffing out with the motion. She felt her annoyance grow even more when he declared, “I didn’t want macaroni.”

“What kid doesn’t like macaroni and cheese?” she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose.

Teddy hopped down from the sofa and started unzipping the knapsack that Remus had left. “I wanna watch Lion King.”

“We aren’t watching Lion King.” Sirius took the bag from him and placed it on the end table out of his reach. “What about Star Wars? It has bad guys and fights with lightsabers. Do you like spaceships?”

“No!” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and stomped his feet. “I want to watch Simba!”

“How about I go get you a snack? You and Sirius can find a film to watch, okay?” 

Hermione shared a look of exasperation with Sirius and disappeared back into the kitchen. It was still a mess from her earlier cooking, so she quickly washed the dishes before starting to prepare Teddy’s snack. Part of her considered serving him his uneaten macaroni and cheese, like her parents used to do to her when she refused to eat supper, but she was too worn down to fight that battle tonight.

She hurried around, cubing cheddar cheese, rinsing off a bunch of red grapes and plucking them off their stems, dropping them into a bowl. Halfway through slicing the grapes into smaller pieces—she couldn’t remember if he was finally old enough that choking on fruit wasn’t a worry anymore—there was a panicked gasp from the living room and she felt her stomach plummet. She dropped the knife on the countertop and ran around the corner, fearing the worst. Much to her surprise, there was no blood or crying, nothing broken or mangled. Sirius and Teddy were sitting side by side on the sofa, watching the telly with matching intensity.

“I see you caved on the film.” She covered her mouth with a laugh, taking in the scene. The knapsack was wide open and Teddy was sitting on the sofa with his legs tucked under himself and a Simba stuffie on his lap, while Sirius’ eyes were glued to the screen. “What happened to ‘ _I’m not watching an annoying kids film tonight_ ’?”

“Have you seen this?” he asked, finally looking up at her and throwing a hand towards the telly. 

“The Lion King? It came out nearly a decade ago but I’ve seen it playing at the Lupin’s before.”

“You know, this Scar is a real arsehole!” He shook his head, looking incredulous. “He _murdered_ Mufasa to try and gain control of the kingdom! That was his brother! It’s like watching a bunch of lions reenact my family history. Who decided this was appropriate for kids?”

Teddy hugged the stuffie against his chest and let out a shaky breath, his eyes fixed on the scene.

“Teddy, are you okay?” she prompted, tipping her head to watch for his answer.

He nodded, his little lip protruded and he repeated Sirius’ words in a solemn tone, “Scar is a real arsehole.”

“Oh my god.” Her hands flew over her mouth in horror.

Sirius’ body went completely still and his gaze snapped up to Hermione and he mouthed, ‘ _fuck_.’

* * *

Teddy happily shoveled another spoonful of strawberry ice cream into mouth, his head rocking back and forth as he sang along to the music on the telly.

“Think he’ll stay true to the terms of our agreement?” Sirius asked, lowering his voice and leaning closer to her. 

The pair stood behind the sofa, eyeing the toddler with distrust.

She scoffed. “We agreed to his demands, he has his ice cream. He better not tell Remus you taught him the word”—her eyes darted over to Teddy and her voice dropped below a whisper—“arsehole.”

Teddy’s face disappeared into the bowl as he licked it clean and set it on the sofa next to him.

“It’s fine. He’s probably forgotten all about it by now,” Sirius assured her, his hand resting on the curve of her hip. “I doubt he even remembers the word anymore.”

Just then, Scar reappeared and Teddy pointed at the screen. “Arsehole!”

“Goddamn it,” Hermione muttered, tossing her head back.

“Goddamn it,” Teddy repeated on cue.

Choking on her inhale, she began to cough and hit her chest with the palm of her hand, trying to stifle the wheezing sound. After a few seconds of this, Sirius let go of her hip and clutched his stomach, laughing until tears built in his eyes. 

“We can’t give him back now,” he choked out the words between bouts of laughter. “Not like this, we broke him.”

“We are not _keeping_ Teddy. Absolutely not.”

“Then what do you propose? I think I used up all the duct tape in the toaster incident,” he quipped, wiping away tears of mirth from his eyes.

She shot him a look of disapproval, clearing her throat. “Lucky for us, kids have irrationally short attention spans.” She navigated over to the bag and retrieved a colouring book and pack of crayons, setting them on the table for him. “Teddy! It’s time to colour!”

Teddy hopped down and ran over to take Sirius’ hand, dragging him over to the coffee table. “Seeus, come colour with me.”

Sirius sat on the floor, his legs criss-cross, and dumped all of the crayons out of the container while Teddy skimmed through the book for pictures.

A wave of fatigue hit Hermione all at once. Her day at work had been long and she’d spent so much of the night running around with Teddy that all she wanted right now was a hot bath and a nap.

Kids were _exhausting_.

“I want the dragon.” Teddy handed the book to Sirius who ripped out the page and set it in front of him. “You can be the princess.”

“Finally, someone who understands me.” He gladly tore out another page for himself. “I’m going to need an excessive amount of blue crayon to achieve my vision. Do you have any crayons with sparkles?”

* * *

Three hours past Teddy’s bedtime and they were all still out on the sofa in the living room, watching The Lion King for a second time in a row. The attempt to get Teddy to go to bed had been half-hearted at best, and they were too tired to argue. Honestly, Hermione had just been glad to get him to change into pyjamas.

The softest snore to her left caught her attention and she looked over to see Teddy asleep in Sirius’ arms, his little head nuzzled into Sirius’ shoulder.

Her heart melted at the sight. 

He raised a finger to his lips, careful not to jostle the toddler, and she nodded in understanding. 

“They’re not so bad when they’re sleeping,” he whispered, dragging his fingers gently through Teddy’s hair, which turned black and wavy under his touch, replicating the same colour and texture as Sirius’ hair.

“It suits you,” she said faintly, taking in the way his broad arms held Teddy in place.

With a smile, he replied, “Funny, I thought the same about you tonight.”

In that moment, Teddy looked like he could’ve been their son, with dark hair the colour of Sirius’ but the curls from Hermione. She watched as he cradled the small child, rocking in place to soothe him.

A thought lingered in the back of her mind and she tried unsuccessfully to push it away. When Sirius used the Time-Turner and went back, he could have this; he could raise kids along with Remus and James—and his kids would be her age.

The thought of him with anyone else—making a life, building a home, having children, all of those beautiful moments that she so desperately wanted for herself—made tears well in her eyes.

It was as if he felt the shift in the air and his hand landed on top of hers, bringing her back to the moment.

Just as their eyes met, the Floo activated and Remus stepped through. Hermione and Sirius were so tired from running around with Teddy, they didn’t even stand up to greet him.

He gave them a knowing look. “How was your night?”

Sirius just grumbled an incoherent noise in response.

Teddy’s eyes cracked open and he gave Remus a sleepy smile. “Daddy! We made a snowman and I was a dragon, and My-Me gave me ice cream and Seeus coloured with me.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Hermione felt her shoulders sag down. She couldn’t even find it in herself to make excuses for the ice cream. It had been a long night.

“Ice cream?” Thankfully, Remus looked more amused than upset.

She mouthed the word ‘ _Sorry_ ’ to Remus. They hadn’t planned on giving him sweets but she didn’t regret bribing the toddler to cover up their accidental vocabulary lesson.

“Look at my dragon I coloured with Seeus.” He jumped down from Sirius’ lap and snagged his picture from the table, sliding across the wood floor in his footie pyjamas as he crossed over to his dad. “His name is Puff.”

Remus’ eyes landed on Sirius as he asked Teddy, “Did you name Puff?”

“No, Seeus did.”

Tutting under his breath, he chuckled. “I figured as much. Did you have fun?”

“Yes! We watched Simba _two times_!”

“You convinced Sirius to watch The Lion King twice?” Remus looked like he was fighting back a laugh as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “He must love the film to watch it two times with you.”

In his sleepy voice, Teddy answered, “He really does! But Scar is a real arsehole.”

* * *

“Do you want kids?” Sirius asked suddenly, bringing a level of alertness back to Hermione who had been minutes away from sleep.

She propped herself up on one elbow on the bed and tried to gauge his facial expression in the dark room. “I...yes. I always imagined that I’d have kids.”

“How many?”

Pondering the question, she finally answered, “At least two, because I was an only child. I’d always wished for siblings growing up and I think that’s why I clung to Harry and Ron when we were young. They were the brothers I never had.”

“Hmm.”

Squinting into the darkness, she prompted, “What about you?”

“When I was a teenager, being a father was the last thing on my mind—practically the stuff of night terrors—so I always said I’d never have kids. But now that I’m older, and seeing that Prongs and Moony were able to do it, it doesn’t seem quite so bad.”

“They’re good dads,” she whispered into the air, pausing before adding, “You would be too.”

“You really think so?”

After she hummed softly in confirmation, there was a brief silence between them.

“I just didn’t want to be anything like my own parents; the last thing I’d want to do is fuck up another generation of Blacks. I’d want to do right by my kids, you know? Not try to push them to conform into something they were never meant to be.”

“You were great with Teddy tonight—I mean, you only lost him once so it was nearly the best case scenario.”

He laughed and she felt the tremors on the mattress. “Thanks for the support, love.”

“But really, Teddy just adores you.”

“He adores you too,” Sirius added, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You’d make a great mum.”

There was a flutter in her chest at his compliment, something unspoken lingering in the air around them.

His hand started tracing the curves of her body, starting at the dip in her waist and moving up the arch of her hips, ghosting across her thighs as he spoke.

“I’ve always loved the idea of a big family—certainly not Weasley-level big, but more than I had with just Regulus. I suppose that our—” His breath caught on the word and blood rushed to her ears as he redirected himself. “I suppose that the Lupins and Potters are built in cousins for any future kids.”

She was trying to focus, she really was, but all she could think about was that he had used the word _‘our’_.

“A big family?” she repeated with a grin, shifting closer to him just in time for his hand to settle on her arse with an appreciative squeeze. “How big are we talking here?”

“Anything over one kid constitutes as big for my family tree. Usually Purebloods stop after having a son as an heir. I’d always thought Regulus would have a son and then be done. I didn’t imagine him wanting a daughter. I never would’ve guessed that he’d value a daughter like a son.”

They’d been back to visit Grimmauld Place several times since their first trip, and each time Hermione felt like she learned something new about Sirius in the best way. “Did you ever think he’d name a son after you?”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “No, I never would’ve believed you if you’d tried to tell me either. Speaking of, did I tell you they came by the shop today?”

“I’m sure Sirius loved that! Did he get to test ride any of them?”

“He did.” He smiled until it reached his eyes. “One day I’ll convince Reg to try one out.”

“Well, let him know we can watch Sirius if they need a break when Norma arrives.”

His fingertips danced across the curve of her waist. “I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”

“You also never answered my question.”

He paused for a moment, thinking. “Ideally, it wouldn’t be for a few years. I’d want at least two kids but no more than four. Between the two of us, we only have four hands and, I’m no expert, but I can see parenting growing exponentially more complicated after we run out of hands.”

 _We_.

She told herself it was probably a slip of the tongue.

“ _Four_?” She fought back the urge to laugh. “You do realise we could barely handle one tonight, right?” 

“I highly doubt Remus and Tonks figured it all out in one night. We have plenty of time to learn before then.” He caught her hand in his and brought it up to his lips. “I won’t be worried as long as I have you.”

She pulled her hand back and replaced it with her lips, capturing his in a searing kiss, wanting to imprint the words on her heart before they disappeared into the air around them.

She echoed his promise from weeks back, relishing in the way his fingers cradled her cheeks. “I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.” 


	25. Silver Eyes Colliding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to Msmerlin who answered all my silly questions and taught me how to start a motorbike for this chapter!

From down the hall, Hermione could hear the sound of water bouncing off Sirius and splashing to the shower floor. She tiptoed across her room, feeling silly about sneaking around—it wasn’t as if he’d be suspicious, even if he did hear her entering the second bedroom—but it still calmed her anxiety to quiet her steps. 

Over the past few weeks, they’d taken to using his room almost exclusively, mainly because of Hermione’s growing paranoia. She was worried he would notice the wards set on her desk and wonder what was hidden inside. The last thing she wanted was for him to find the non-functional Time-Turner and raise his hopes for nothing. 

This morning, she took advantage of his habit of long showers and retrieved the necklace from its hiding spot. Before her third year, she had to learn the fundamentals of time travel. The Ministry provided her with basic information like maintenance, history, and various diagnostic spells in case of Time-Turner malfunction. 

Running her wand over the gold necklace, she felt the hum of its magic beneath her fingers, still as weak as the first time she’d tried the spell. Her brow furrowed as she repeated the motion, watching the necklace react to each incantation. She caught a peculiar glimmer at the corner of the necklace and whispered “ _Lumos_ ” to provide better visibility. 

She focused on the serial number imprinted into the gold on the opposite side of the pendant. The glimmer caught her attention again, and she realised it was coming from the small hourglass. Careful not to agitate the sand inside, she inspected it further, catching an uneven seam along the edge where the glass met the gold. 

“It’s not the original hourglass,” she murmured under her breath in realisation.

The knob on the shower squeaked as the water cut off and she could hear Sirius shuffling around inside the bathroom, probably toweling off and dressing.

She wrapped up the pieces of the necklace with haste and shoved them back into the drawer, barely closing it all the way before she heard the creak of Sirius’ steps. Her pulse quickened as she hopped up from her seat to beat Sirius to the kitchen for breakfast. 

Just a moment after she finished pouring herself a glass of orange juice, Sirius sauntered down the hall towards her, wearing nothing but his fluffy white towel. Juice spilled out of the corners of her mouth as she forgot to swallow, and she tilted the glass forward to stop the flow. Using the back of her sleeve, she wiped her lips and chin with a grimace.

He was already laughing but didn’t stop his prowl towards her. She set the glass down on the counter and let her eyes drift down his torso, taking in his tattoos and muscles with obvious appreciation. 

“You nearly killed me the first time you did this, I’ll have you know,” she mumbled, staring at the bulge between his legs which pushed up the front of the towel. 

A smirk pulled at his lips as he reached her, grabbing her by the waist and tugging her flush against him. It seemed he made a habit of trying to touch her as frequently as possible, not that she had any complaints. “And, my lovely little starling, do you remember what had happened the night before?”

She frowned and her eyes flew up to the ceiling as she pondered the question. “We went flying?”

His hands drifted down along her hips and around to her arse, and he lowered his lips to her neck, placing a kiss that triggered a series of delighted goosebumps. His silver eyes met hers with a hint of mischief in them. “The way you clung to me that night, the feeling of your chin on my shoulder and your arms moving down my chest,” he sighed, “the smell of your shampoo and how impossibly adorable you looked all swallowed up in my jacket, I nearly kissed you. Had a dream about you that night and I thought if I had to suffer, it wouldn't be the worst to make you suffer a little bit too.”

She gasped and pulled back, swatting at his firm chest. “You did that on _purpose_?”

“Spent a little extra time in the shower that morning thinking of you, too.” He winked and she felt a flutter in her stomach.

“Did you now?” With a shift of her stance, she felt the weight of his erection pressed to her stomach. “Would you like to share those thoughts with the rest of the class?” Looking up at him, she didn’t break eye contact as she tugged at the knot of fabric just below his waist, and he sucked in a breath.

Ollie softly hooted from across the room, which Hermione and Sirius promptly ignored. After a moment, Hazel joined in as well, the two owls flapping their wings to get their attention.

Hermione glared over her shoulder just in time to see an unfamiliar brown owl approaching their flat with a letter tied to its foot. 

She paused with her hands still on his towel, ready to rip it off him. “I don’t recognise it,” she said, staring at the eagle owl’s bright orange eyes as it landed on their windowsill. “Do you?”

Ripping his eyes away from her, they settled on the bird. She felt his fingers dig into her hips as his grip tightened. “It’s Reg’s owl.”

The owl in question gave an impatient hoo, wiggling its foot at Sirius.

“I’m starting to think he makes a hobby out of interrupting us.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek and secured his towel around his waist again before crossing the room over to the window. While he tore open the letter and skimmed the contents, Hermione retrieved a treat from the cupboard to offer to the owl—much to the annoyance of Ollie and Hazel.

“They’re at St. Mungo’s. Mary went into labour this morning and they want us to be the very first to meet baby Norma,” he murmured, his eyes darting back and forth across the parchment. 

The owl accepted the treat and disappeared back out the window. She leaned over and saw the messy scribbles from Regulus, showing his haste while writing it. “Both of us?”

He smiled. “Both of us.” 

She’d never seen Sirius get dressed so quickly and he practically dragged her into the fireplace.

Not ten minutes after receiving the letter from Regulus, they were signing in at the front desk at St. Mungo’s and navigating the halls to find Mary’s room. 

“Ready to become an uncle for the second time?”

“Third time,” Sirius corrected, directing her to turn a corner, his hand providing a guiding pressure at the small of her back. “I count Teddy.”

She scrunched her nose. “You count Teddy but not Harry? He didn’t make the cut?”

“Harry’s my godson; it’s a different sort of relationship. But to answer your question, yes, I’m ready to meet my niece.” He had a skip in his step at the word ‘niece’ and for a brief moment, she thought her heart might explode.

Suddenly he stopped, just a metre away from Mary’s door.

“Shit.”

She turned to look up at him, confused at his panic. “What? What is it?”

“I didn’t bring anything—shouldn’t you bring something when you’re visiting the hospital? Like a stuffie, or flowers? Or maybe even celebratory whisky? The day Harry was born, the room was full of gifts.”

Suppressing the urge to giggle, she took his hand in hers and tugged it to get his attention. “If it makes you feel any better, baby Norma won’t remember if you brought her whisky.”

He tossed her a look and huffed, “You know what I meant.”

“She’s a baby, she doesn’t care about a stuffie or flowers yet.”

“But Regulus will, and so will Mary, and we just started speaking again and I didn’t even think to bring anything with us.”

“Hey.” She lowered her voice just above a gentle whisper. “They barely sent the owl and we came straight here. If you want, we can pick up a gift on the way out and send it to them, okay?”

After a beat of silence he nodded and she approached the room, knocking her knuckle against the door. She barely finished the second knock before it swung wide open, and a flash of blue rushed past her to Sirius. An elated looking Regulus pulled Sirius in for a hug. “I’m so happy you‘re here.”

Though it was the first time Hermione had ever seen the two embrace, Sirius didn’t hesitate to return his brother’s hug. Regulus clapped him once on the back before releasing him and ushering them into the room where the rest of his family was waiting.

“The healers gave them both a perfect bill of health.” Regulus pulled back the curtain that surrounded the hospital bed and revealed a fatigued-looking Mary. 

She was resting in the centre of an extra wide bed, holding a little bundle in the crook of her arm. There was a sound of movement in the corner of the room and Hermione noticed the younger Sirius napping on the sofa just below the window with a transfigured blanket on top of him. He still had a toy truck tucked under his arm, as if he’d fallen asleep while playing.

Mary gave the pair a tired smile and a small wave with her free hand. “Hermione, Sirius, you made it.”

“How are you doing?” Hermione asked, noticing the tray of food next to the bed with only crumbs of food left on it.

“Exhausted but glad she’s finally here. I’ve never been so grateful for magic as I was today. You wouldn’t believe what I saw my sister go through in a No-Maj hospital giving birth last summer.”

Hermione thought of her birth story from her mum—how she’d nearly been born in the parking lot of the hospital because they were stuck in traffic on the drive. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop being amazed at what Healers can do with magic. How long have you been here?”

“We’ve been here since midnight,” Regulus explained, keeping his voice low as he glanced across the room at his sleeping son. “Norma wanted to keep us in suspense and make a grand entrance. Sirius refused to sleep all night because he’s been so excited to meet his new sister. He’s been out for a half hour now. Between us, I think the novelty wore off and he was disappointed that she isn’t interesting yet.”

“I recall having the same thought about you, little brother.” Sirius grinned, reaching up to rustle Regulus’ hair only to have his hand swatted away. “In fact, I’m still waiting for you to become interesting.”

“You’re lying,” he retorted with a laugh. “We’re not even a year apart, so _you_ weren’t even interesting by the time I was born. And I’m not sure you can call me ‘little’ anymore considering we are the same height and I’m nearly twice your age!”

A groan came from Mary. “Don’t say it like that! You’re making me feel old and that’s not the morale boost that I need immediately after giving birth.”

After placing a kiss on his wife’s head, Regulus whispered something in her ear that made her smile. He took Norma and turned back to Sirius. “Would you like to hold her?”

Sirius just nodded, his gaze fixed on the swaddled baby. “I should warn you that the last baby I held is now twenty-one. I’m a tad bit rusty but I believe I recall the mechanics of it.”

“Don’t drop the baby,” Regulus reminded him in a teasing tone. “That’s rule number one.”

“You know, now that you say it, I do recall that being a rather big sticking point with Lily as well.” Sirius settled into the stiff hospital chair and accepted Norma from Regulus, carefully shifting the bundle like she was made of porcelain until she rested in the crook of his arm.

Unable to resist watching the heartwarming sight that was her boyfriend holding a baby, Hermione pulled up another chair next to him and sat at the edge of her seat, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her palms. Norma’s body was tightly wrapped up in a pale green blanket but her hands were free. She wore a matching hat which covered the top of her head and Hermione could see a hint of thin black hair peeking out near her ears. She was slumbering away peacefully, unaware of her change in surroundings. 

Hermione watched as Sirius’ index finger traced the curve of Norma’s chubby cheek with a gentle sort of awe. “She’s tiny.” The pad of his fingertip pressed against her palm and in reflex she closed her hand around his finger. “I don’t remember Harry ever being so tiny.”

“She’s perfect.” Hermione’s voice was soft as she watched the newborn shift in her sleep.

Baby Norma’s eyes cracked open, her blinks slow and drawn out, as if she were fighting to stay awake. 

“You’re the first one to hold her.” She could hear the smile in Mary’s voice. “We want her to know that family always comes first.”

Sirius and Norma watched each other with matching curiosity, their silver eyes colliding, neither breaking the connection. 

“Hi, little one,” Sirius murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he brushed his thumb across the back of her hand, pausing on the dimples of her knuckles. “I’m your Uncle Sirius.”

Norma yawned, making the littlest noise with her exhale. 

Sirius’ eyes glassed over and Hermione thought she saw a tremble to his lips. “Are you okay?” she asked in a low voice, careful not to catch the attention of Regulus who was currently murmuring to Mary. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

She was tempted to make a quip but the solemn expression on his face made her pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I missed _everything_ ,” he whispered, and the words broke her heart. “I don’t know how to be a Godfather or an uncle—not in any way that truly matters. I haven’t ever been anything to them but a story.”

She didn’t know how to respond, so she simply shifted closer and began to draw slow circles against his back, hoping it would provide him with some comfort and reassure him that she was there with him.

“I never had this moment with Sirius.” His gaze lifted over to his sleeping nephew before falling back down to Norma. “It still feels like yesterday that I was holding Harry in the hospital and his wedding is next month.”

A tear fell down her cheek before she could stop it, and she leaned her head to rest on his shoulder while she looked down at Norma. “Sirius and Norma are so young they won’t remember a life before you, and Harry loves you like you never left.”

“You think so?” He swallowed, tightening his hold on the baby by a fraction.

“I do. You’re going to be the best uncle to them, I know it in my soul.” She let out a shaky exhale and brushed away the wetness on her cheeks. “I’m sorry you lost those moments, but sometimes life finds a way to give us second chances.”

* * *

The birth of baby Norma had been a pleasant distraction for Hermione, but when evening came, she could barely focus on the words on the page in front of her. Her mind was stuck on the drawer in her bedroom and what she’d discovered that morning.

Every Time-Turner was composed of goblin-forged gold, time sand, and regular glass, which made them very fragile. It was a trade secret that the glass and metal were merely instruments used to harness and stabilise the magic of the time sand and the intent of the person using it. The gold had to be magically conductive—forged using ancient magic known only to goblins—but without the time sand, it was useless.

Whoever had stolen it from the Ministry must’ve broken the hourglass and attempted to replace it. Information on how to build or repair the device was classified and could only be found in the Department of Time, which was impossible for a normal witch or wizard to access.

An idea sparked in her mind. If the person attempting this replacement didn’t understand the materials used in the Time-Turner, it was possible that when the hourglass shattered, they lost the time sand and replaced it with something else. She felt a twist in her stomach at the thought; if she needed time sand to get the necklace working again, she would be out of luck. It was one of the most heavily guarded resources in the wizarding world and nearly impossible to acquire, even on a black market with endless funds and the right connections. 

Anyone would be able to create a makeshift Time-Turner as long as they had real time sand, though without the proper design, it would be wildly unstable.

As she remembered his words from the hospital, her heart sank like a stone through water. He’d missed out on so much, and even though he seemed happy enough here, he deserved the chance to choose what he wanted to do. If she found a way to repair the Time-Turner, he could live his life alongside James and Remus and Lily the way he was supposed to. He could be there for Harry’s entire life, Teddy and Sirius’ births.

He could fall in love and have children of his own that grew up with Harry. 

“Hermione?” someone called, though their voice barely registered with her since she was so deep in thought.

Her brain whirred on.

But, if she was at a dead end with the time sand, she could just throw the necklace in the bin. She had tried to fix it, to help him return to his original timeline, and found it to be impossible. A hidden part of her felt elated; if it was just a useless necklace of gold and glass, she could toss it in the rubbish and pretend it never existed. 

She could live her life with Sirius.

Even though it seemed impossible and she wanted him to stay, she couldn’t convince herself to throw the Time-Turner away.

“Hermione Granger, where is your head tonight?”

She looked up from her book with wide eyes and froze. “Why’d you say my whole name like I’m in trouble? The toaster was like that when I found it.”

“It’s not the toaster.” Sirius sounded like he was struggling to maintain his disapproving tone.

“Then what did I do?”

The corner of his lip twitched as he leaned over and took the book from her hands, slipping the bookmark into her place and setting it on the coffee table. “It’s not what you did. It’s what you haven’t done.”

Swinging her feet off the sofa and onto the floor, she sat up and tossed him a look of annoyance. “Okay, then what _didn’t_ I do?”

“You still haven’t taken your bike out for a flight.”

Barely resisting the urge to close her eyes and groan, she muttered, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he teased, tugging at her arm to bring her to a standing position. “If you keep this up, I’m going to start thinking you didn’t like your gift.”

“I really do love it,” she insisted, thinking back to the dozen times she’d visited the storage unit to stare at the bike. Each time she visited, she noticed a new detail that Sirius had included for her. One week after Christmas, she’d found a leather jacket that he had made for her tucked away inside the storage compartment. “Maybe you can try flying it first and I can just hold on to you like usual?”

Sirius shook his head firmly. “Not going to happen. She’s your bike—you have to be the one to lead the maiden voyage. I already told you that I’ll be there with you the entire time so there’s nothing to fear. I won’t let anything bad happen, I promise.”

After donning her leather jacket, Hermione found herself sitting on her motorbike in the middle of the field next to their flat, with her boyfriend tucked securely behind her. He’d melted the snow around them and cast a half dozen warming charms before she stepped foot out of the flat. 

She felt his arms trail up her thighs and around her stomach, pausing so he could brush her curls to the side and place a warm kiss on the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

“How do I start it?” she asked, raising her voice over the whistle of the winter wind.

“Choke closed,” he murmured, leaning around her to press a small lever next to her left thumb away from them. His strong arms reached around her and he placed her hand on the right handlebar, his fingers laced over hers. “Clutch in. Now we need to start the engine.”

Panic chased through her veins and her grip on the handlebars grew so tight that her fingers began to go numb. With an assuring squeeze of his hands, Sirius guided her to press a red switch down before turning the key which caused the motorbike to kick on, rumbling beneath them.

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft in her ear and she nodded before she lost her courage. “Deep breath.”

She inhaled through her nose, filling her lungs with air and then exhaled with a purse of her lips. His hand gently twisted her right hand downward and suddenly they were moving, and then lifting up into the air, weightless.

The wind danced through her hair, skating around them as she navigated the bike upwards with Sirius’ help.

When the bike evened out and they began to coast, everything clicked into place. She understood why Sirius loved flying, why the first thing he created when he left his family was a bike, why he wanted to continue to build and create in his own shop. 

It was _freedom_.

His weight shifted behind her and he pressed a second button at the base between the handlebars, leaving her hands alone to direct the bike. “It’s a sort of autopilot,” he explained, his voice a little too loud for how close his lips were to the shell of her ear. “You can let go.”

It took her longer than she would ever admit to release her death grip on the bike, but much to her relief, it continued coasting at their gentle speed, moving in a straight line in front of them. His arms looped around her midsection and his chin rested on her shoulder, nuzzling closer to her neck. 

“Oh my god,” she whispered under her breath, the lights below blurred as they flew through the puffs of clouds around them. “Is this what it feels like every time?”

“Every single time,” he repeated in confirmation.

“Just how good is this autopilot?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder to see his reaction.

“Very. There’s also an emergency Portkey in the centre if the bike begins to drop too quickly or the engine dies, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good.” Balancing carefully, she twisted her torso, resting her weight on her hands, and rotated her hips until she was straddling Sirius with her thighs laying over his and her arms wrapped around his neck.

“Quite the daredevil, aren’t you?” A smirk teased at his lips and he rested his hand on her waist. “First time flying and you’re already trying tricks.”

She looked up at him through her lashes and shrugged. “Your bad influence is to blame. You make me feel reckless.”

His lips crashed against hers, knocking the very breath from her lungs. He deepened the kiss until she could no longer tell if the butterflies in her stomach were from the flight or from him.

“Well, love, I suppose that means we’re even then.”

* * *

Because of his utter disdain for authority and distrust of organised administrations, the last person Hermione had ever expected to see standing outside her Ministry office on a Tuesday morning was Sirius Black. 

“What are you doing here? Is everything alright?” she asked, setting her quill down on top of her half finished memo and leaning back into her chair. “How’d you even get into the Ministry?”

“Lunch, yes, and James,” he rattled off in quick succession.

“I wasn’t aware we were starting phase one of our coup today, otherwise I would’ve worn trousers.”

He waved off her quip and slipped through the entryway, settling into the seat opposite her and propping his feet up on her desk. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t even trained my thestrals yet.”

“You said you’re here for lunch?”

“I’m here to liberate you and in the process, yes, there will be sandwiches. So, this is what you do all day instead of spending it with me,” he mused, picking up the framed photograph from their most recent Christmas at the Potters’. He held the image in his hands for a moment, watching it play on a loop.

She stood and walked around to his seat, taking the frame from him and setting it back down. “I work.”

He blew a raspberry when she pushed his feet off her desk and to the floor. “You’re less enthusiastic about this jailbreak than I thought you’d be. Do they have dementors working here?”

“Only if you count Karen,” she teased. “Lucky for you, I’ve finished everything I needed to do before lunch and I’m officially available for the rest of your escape plan, which had better include a chocolate dessert.”

“Of course it does,” he scoffed, following her out of the office. “Do I look like an amateur to you?” 

Andrea came rushing out of a door just around the corner from the main office area, looking a bit frazzled. Hermione waved her hand to get her attention and Sirius slipped into place next to her. “Andrea! Hey, have you seen Theodore?”

“What?” Andrea stopped in her tracks and blinked like a deer in the headlights. “No. Why would I know where Nott is? I’m not his keeper.”

Hermione frowned, taking in the way Andrea rocked side to side and tugged at the hem of her blouse as if straightening it. “I don’t expect you to be, I just thought you might’ve run into him since he’s over here all the time. Anyway, if he stops by, let him know that Hannah’s submitting the evidence…” She trailed off when she saw Theo come out of the same door that Andrea had just emerged from. “Huh.”

Andrea’s attention had shifted over to Sirius, as if she had just noticed him standing there. “Oh, it’s the flatmate.”

“The _boyfriend_ ,” Sirius corrected, sounding quite pleased with himself.

She made a soft noise of surprise. “Good for you, Hermione. Well, I’ll leave you two wherever you were going but I’ll see you at three for the meeting with Johnson?”

“Yeah, see you at three.”

The pair watched as Andrea retreated to her office, and Theo was no longer anywhere in sight.

Sirius leaned in closer to Hermione and whispered, “They’re shagging.”

“What?” she recoiled, shaking her head. “No, that’s ridiculous! They can’t stand each other.”

His lips curved upward into a mischievous grin. “Oh, Starling, it’s adorable how you think those are mutually exclusive. Didn’t you notice her top was inside out?”

She gasped, looking at the door that Theo and Andrea had both come out of before turning back to Sirius. “Well, fuck me.”

“I bet you twenty Galleons that’s a direct quote from them not ten minutes ago in that very conference room.”

Scrunching her nose in disgust, she wiggled her body and muttered, “Ew. We have a meeting there in a few hours. I’ll have to thoroughly _Scourgify_ my seat...and the table.”

“Or you can just come home with me after lunch,” Sirius replied in a sing-song voice. He followed her lead as they walked the path towards the lifts. “We have big plans tonight.”

“Big plans?”

“Big plans,” he repeated seriously. “I’ve been doing some thinking and as it turns out, the flat needs a bit of remodeling.”

She nearly tripped over her feet when she looked up at him in shock. “ _You_ want to remodel? Having seen what you and Remus did with the flat twenty years ago, I didn’t think you were interested in home decor.”

“Not that kind of remodel—maybe more of a demolition—there’s a certain wall that we need to remove.”

“Oh?”

“It would seem that the visionary architect who designed our home was wrong on one aspect.”

As the doors to the lift opened, she couldn’t help but ask, “And what was that?”

“The two bedrooms were always meant to be one.”


	26. Harry's Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm so sorry that I didn't have time to reply to comments this week. Work has been crazy and I haven't had any extra time. I promise that I read and loved every comment and I hope you all enjoy the update! ❤️❤️❤️

A thousand twinkling lights adorned the magicked tent, the soft glow and warming charms providing a refuge from the biting chill of February air. For as long as Hermione had known her, Ginny had wanted a Valentine’s Day wedding, and Harry was not one to deny Ginny anything.

The moment that Hermione saw Sirius, she forgot how to breathe. 

The world slowed around her until all she saw was him. 

Her mouth went dry and she felt the flurry of butterflies in her stomach the moment that his smile reached his eyes. She couldn’t help the way her gaze drifted, taking him in one inch at a time. 

He was wearing a three-piece charcoal suit with a silk tie in the same shade of pale pink as her dress; it was taut across his shoulders and chest, so perfectly tailored to his body that she couldn’t rip her gaze away from him. A white rose in bloom was pinned to his lapel, and he wore a gold tie clip and set of matching cufflinks, with a sliver of linen at the ends. 

A smirk tugged at his lips.

_“Holy shit.”_

She hadn’t realised that she said it out loud until he grinned and whispered, “My thoughts exactly.” 

He extended his arm to her and she took it in a daze, allowing him to guide her down the aisle in time to the string quartet playing softly in the corner. Clutching the bouquet of pink and white flowers in her free hand, they made their way towards Harry. When they reached the end of the aisle, Sirius leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek just before they separated, taking their positions on either side of the flowery arch.

Tears filled her vision and fell freely when she saw Harry’s reaction to his bride walking towards him. The two shared a watery smile and an incredulously delighted laugh, as if they couldn’t believe that they had finally arrived at the moment when they would become husband and wife.

In truth, Hermione barely heard anything that was said during the ceremony; her eyes were drawn to Sirius who watched her in turn with a curve of his lips. The witch leading the ceremony bound Harry and Ginny’s hands in a golden thread, which disappeared following their vows. Magic hummed between them and surrounded the couple in a shimmer of gold.

While Harry and Ginny retreated down the aisle, Sirius took her by the arm and murmured in her ear, “I hope you save at least one dance for me tonight.”

“Perhaps I could be persuaded to make room. You see, my dance card is rather full this season,” she teased under her breath, politely smiling at the Weasleys as she and Sirius walked down the aisle towards the reception.

“Better put me first and then be prepared to burn the card, Starling. You won’t want anyone else after I’m done with you.” His voice was low with a hint of promise.

“Just like I burned the card from Andrea,” she quipped before she could stop herself.

He choked out a laugh that was so loud, she was grateful they were already out of sight of the crowd. “I’m so proud of you. My only regret is that I didn’t kiss you sooner.”

* * *

“You know, I’m somewhat of an inventor myself,” Arthur Weasley asserted with a proud puff of his chest. “Hermione has told me all about you and your flying motorbikes shop! I have to say, I’m just fascinated by the idea.”

“Has she really?” Sirius’ brows raised and his silver eyes caught on her as she took a sip of her wine. “What do you build?”

From a nearby table, Molly Weasley let out a boisterous laugh, and Arthur glanced at his wife before lowering his voice. “For the past few years, I’ve been working on a Muggle contraption called a Ford Anglia.”

Hermione had seen the car in question, having come across it with Ron and Harry a few summers back when they were adventuring through the piles of storage in the Burrow. At the time, the car in question hadn’t even been able to turn on. She knew from Ron that Molly was usually unaware or disapproving of Arthur’s little side projects.

Tucking a hand in his pocket and shifting his weight to the side, Sirius appeared to consider the idea. “You’re enchanting an entire multi passenger vehicle to fly? How’d you get around the limitations of a Disillusionment Charm?” 

“An Invisibility Booster installed on the dashboard turns the car and all passengers completely invisible. No Disillusionment necessary.”

Sirius hummed under his breath, visibly impressed. “Do you have the specs for that? I’d love to talk through your design some more. I have a prototype for a long-range invisibility component in the latest model that I’ve been testing all month.”

“Absolutely!” Arthur looked tickled pink at the prospect. “I’ll have to come by the shop soon! Harry and Ginny raved about the opening last month; I can’t believe you snagged the old Thompson’s location in Diagon Alley after he moved his apothecary to Paris. It’s quite a large space, isn’t it?”

“It is, and he’ll certainly need it all, too,” Hermione smiled into her glass as she nursed her drink—a dark red wine with notes of an oak spice that was being served to all the guests. Harry had insisted he wasn’t tipsy by the time they picked a drink but she had a difficult time believing that since she knew he hated red wine. “They’re nearly using all the space already. Sirius has sold over a dozen bikes since the opening! At this rate, the four employees they have won’t be enough to keep up with demand.”

Arthur lit up, jumping into a monologue about Muggle manufacturing processes and suppliers for the magical components of vehicles. She politely nodded along to his enthused ramblings, lost in her own thoughts. 

Her heart swelled with pride for her boyfriend and his accompaniments, and she loved seeing Sirius pursuing his dreams. It was probably bordering on excess, but she couldn’t help but brag about him to anyone who would listen. Even at the grand opening for his shop, she helped him show off his stockroom of motorbikes and take orders from excited customers. When it came time for his big speech, he had dragged her up on the stage with him and they took a photograph that was later printed in the local paper. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Ron lean in closer to whisper something into his date’s ear. When his lips stopped moving, Olivia giggled behind her hand. A couple of months after he moved back to London, Ron introduced Olivia Harding to their group of friends, and she’d been a pleasant surprise. They’d worked together as Aurors in Belgium and continued to write after his time there ended. She was just as brilliant as Ron had described, but with a quirky side that complemented Ron’s.

Music filled the tent, which had been rearranged for the reception, and Ginny took the centre of the floor with Harry for their first dance.

“Oh! I’d best get ready for my dance with Ginny.” Arthur straightened the top of his dress robes and clapped Sirius on the shoulder. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Gods, they look like James and Lily, don’t they?” Sirius asked, taking the words from her mouth.

She nodded, watching as they twirled across the dance floor in sync. Having seen Harry’s earlier attempts at dancing, she was glad that Ginny had insisted they take lessons in preparation for their reception, even though Harry lamented over every class.

“Sirius Black?” 

Hermione and Sirius both turned in response to his name. Since the news of his return spread through the papers, it seemed they ran into his old classmates and friends nearly once a week.

“Elizabeth,” he finally said. His tone would’ve sounded neutral to anyone who didn’t know him as well as Hermione did. She couldn’t help but notice his shift in body language—the way his shoulders seemed to straighten and his eyes widened. “It’s been a while.”

The dark-haired woman, who appeared to be the same age as James and was just a bit taller than Hermione, still hadn’t taken her eyes off Sirius. “Yeah, about twenty years.” She let out a short laugh that sounded unnatural. “James mentioned that you came back from the dead but—wow—you haven’t aged a single day.”

Hermione watched the interaction with growing curiosity, taking in the subtle lines of strain around Elizabeth’s eyes.

“It’s his hair and skin regimen,” she quipped Sirius’ joke out of habit, trying to break the tension.

Elizabeth looked altogether unamused and pressed her lips into a thin line. 

Sirius settled his hand on the curve of Hermione’s spine. “Elizabeth, this is my girlfriend, Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Elizabeth Fleamont—”

“—Thompson, it’s Elizabeth Thompson now,” Elizabeth corrected with a small smile. “I’ve been married nearly fifteen years.”

“That’s wonderful, congratulations.” Sirius’ fingers trailed up her spine, and Hermione suddenly didn’t mind the backless dress Ginny had picked out for the bridesmaids.

“So, how do you know the family?” Hermione asked in a tone that she hoped was conversational. They were both acting so odd, she felt as if she were missing something.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and paused before answering, “I _am_ part of the family, James is my cousin.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

From the uncomfortable air between the two, Hermione could only assume _this_ was the cousin that Sirius had told her about, the one he’d been seeing and then cut off contact with no warning. 

“I believe the last time I saw you, you were crouching behind a rubbish bin in Diagon Alley.” Elizabeth smirked, seeming to relish the way Sirius squirmed. 

The music changed and Arthur stepped in to take Harry’s place to dance with Ginny. Hermione shifted her weight, subtly nudging Sirius with her elbow, and his fingers pressed into her back in response. 

“Well, after all these years I’m sure you two have plenty to talk about. I’m going to go check on Harry, okay?” She gave him an encouraging smile, hoping she could silently communicate to him. After the story he told her, the very least he owed Elizabeth was an apology. “It was nice to meet you.”

Sirius grimaced, his eyes pleading with her before she stepped away to find her best friend. 

* * *

Not ten minutes later, Sirius stole her from Harry and pulled her away from the noise of the reception, over towards the edge of the tent.

“I hope you apologised to her,” Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You weren’t very nice to her back then.”

“Of course I apologised, but it’s been twenty years for her. She stopped being mad at me a long time ago and spent the whole time talking about her husband and daughters. You didn’t have to walk away for us to talk, though. Is everything alright?”

She didn’t know how to answer, how to explain her traitorous thoughts that kept wondering. “If you had stayed in the past, do you think you would’ve reached out to apologise to her sooner?” The question slipped past her lips of its own accord.

Frowning, Sirius seemed to mull over her question. “I’d like to think I would’ve. I’m not the same man I was back then and it was wrong and immature to avoid her instead of facing her. Why do you ask? Are you upset?”

“I’m not upset,” she insisted, her stomach plummeting at the thought. 

She didn’t know how to stop feeling like the consolation prize, like he was only here because there was no other choice. Hermione could easily imagine it—if she had the time sand, he would go back a changed man, wanting to make right on his past mistakes. He would send Elizabeth a letter which would turn into a dinner and—

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were _jealous_.” His eyes searched hers, his fingers drifting down her arm.

“Well, then it’s a good thing you know better,” she bristled, knowing she was being ridiculous and still, she couldn’t hide the hurt in her voice. “Excuse me for not wanting to stand around and reminisce with the woman who was your first.”

His hand caught hers and they slipped out of the tent, past the barrier of the enchantments on the reception and over to the cluster of trees that lined the property. The biting February air around them faded away to warmth and she saw Sirius tuck his wand back into his pocket. 

“And if I didn’t know any better—if you really were jealous—do you know what I’d say to you?” His voice lowered dangerously as he whispered, “It’s not the first that matters, love, it’s the _last_.”

She shivered. This time, it wasn’t from the cold. 

He leaned in closer, his breath tickling the wisps of her curls along her neck. “You are so distracting, did you know that?” His murmur sent a thrill down her spine. “The moment I saw you in this dress, the only thing I could think about was all the ways I want to take it off of you.”

“Sirius,” she swallowed, her eyes darting back over to the entrance of the tent which was still in sight.

Sliding lower, his hands smoothed over her round arse and squeezed. 

“What if someone walks out of the reception? They’ll see us.”

Undeterred, a slow smirk spread across his lips as his fingertips shifted forward and toyed with the slit in her dress, teasing her upper thigh. “Tell me no and I’ll stop,” he said, challenging her. While one hand rucked up the material of her dress, the fingers of the other disappeared underneath the chiffon, finding their way to her covered core.

He paused, his darkened gaze met hers. “Yes?”

She told herself she should say no, that they should go back into the reception where she was sure their absence would be noticed, but the blazing heat in his eyes pushed away any thought of stopping.

He was here, right now, with her, and he was hers.

“Yes.” Her arms looped around his neck and she pulled him in for a kiss, groaning into his touch as he pushed aside her knickers.

Of all the ways Hermione had thought the night would go, she’d never expected this. 

Despite her better judgement, she spread her legs farther to give him better access. His strong fingers teased her already slick folds, paying extra attention to her swollen clit. “I think you like this, love.” His accusation was soft and teasing. “I think you like that anyone could see you. You’re so wet and I’ve barely touched you.” 

“Have you seen yourself in that suit?” she whimpered, grinding herself down against his palm. Her head fell forward against his chest when his fingers pushed into her, curling as he pumped in and out at an unforgiving pace. 

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice soft but firm.

Eyes flying up to meet his, she fisted the lapels of his jacket in her hands, trying to steady her shaking legs. He stepped forward, guiding her backward until her back hit the large tree trunk behind her, their view partially obscured from the tent. She whispered his name, her voice trembling with need as her hips rose, seeking to drive him further inside. 

His fingers worked quick circles over her clit, and she felt her arousal winding tighter and tighter.

“I’m close—I’m—” The words died on her lips when his thumb flicked her bundle of nerves. She gasped and he repeated the action, again and again, until she was falling over the precipice and keening his name as quietly as she could.

Before she could catch her breath, he was turning her until she was anchoring herself against the tree with the palms of her hands digging into the bark. He tugged her ruined knickers down to her knees and she felt a rush of air against her bare cunt.

In the distance, they could hear low chatter and the band playing inside the tent.

“You’ll want to be quiet, love,” he murmured, pressing a single heated kiss against her neck before gathering the material of her dress and pushing it up around her waist. “You don’t want anyone to come out and see your pretty little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

Her eyes widened. “On your—”

He braced her hips and they both groaned when he slid into her, filling her in a single upward thrust. His mouth found her ear, his voice hoarse as he whispered, “Gods, you’re so fucking tight.”

Something in the back of her mind told her that what they were doing was wrong—that Harry would never forgive her if she caused a scene at his wedding by getting caught shagging his godfather in the open outside the reception—but she couldn’t find it in her to care about anything beyond the deliciously tight stretch of his cock buried deep inside her.

“We should…” Her breath stuttered as the pad of his fingers pressed into her clit and she arched her back. “...should cast a silencing charm.”

“The sounds you’re making—trying to hold back—I want to hear you gasp,” he grunted, his sentence broken as he continued fucking into her with slow, deep thrusts. The soft pants coming from him combined with the slap of his skin against hers was the most arousing thing she’d ever heard. 

The bloody Minister for Magic could walk around the corner right now and Hermione wouldn’t stop. There was nothing, _nothing_ better than this.

“I can’t have my little witch jealous.” His cock dragged out of her until just the tip was notched at her core and slid back in to the hilt. Her keens devolved into a strangled moan and she rocked backwards onto her heels, impaling herself on his length, urging him to quicken his pace. “Maybe I just needed to remind you that you’re _mine_.”

Sirius’ arm wrapped around her midsection, holding her up as he slammed into her with reckless abandon. “Hermione,” he groaned, and the sound of her name on his lips unravelled her.

There was a crescendo of white noise in her ears and she lost herself in the moment, in the rush of pleasure and the feeling of him clinging to her, in his whispered words of praise as he finished inside her and she couldn’t help but feel _complete_.

For a moment, they paused in the quiet, listening to the faded sound of the band playing. Sirius dropped a series of kisses down her neck and to her shoulder, slow and gentle. He slipped out of her and, on wobbly legs, she turned back to face him. 

“You never—” he kissed her on each cheek “—have to worry about me—” he moved to kiss her forehead before finding his way back to her lips “—because I’m yours.”

“Promise?”

“As long as you’ll have me.” He brought her hand up to his lips to press another kiss there.

Trying to catch her breath, she rested the back of her head against the tree and watched him retrieve his wand and mutter a few quick cleaning spells over both of them before tucking himself back into his trousers. She was grateful; the last thing she needed was to feel the aftermath of their coupling dripping down her thighs for the rest of the night.

At some point, her knickers had fallen to the ground and before she could pick them up, Sirius snagged and pocketed them with a grin. 

“Sirius Black!” she hissed, reaching for his pocket only to have him wiggle away at the last moment. “You can’t expect me to go back without knickers.” 

As his smirk grew, she felt her face flush even more than it already had. He buttoned up his suit jacket and began to stroll back to the tent.

“Sirius!” She straightened her dress and ran after him, catching him just at the entrance to the tent.

“Hermione! Sirius! We’ve been looking for you. You almost missed it. Harry and Ginny are just about to cut the cake.” Ron stopped just in front of them, looking them over with a slight frown before beckoning them to follow him over to the family tables.

“Think he knows?” Sirius whispered, wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively as they trailed after Ron. 

She could tell Sirius was loving this, parading her through the reception with her ruined knickers in his pocket.

“Don’t be absurd. Ronald doesn’t know what I look like after a real orgasm, let alone two,” she muttered.

“Oh.” His lips twisted to the side and he pulled out her chair for her. “I’ll give you at least two more when we get home as an apology on behalf of men everywhere—”

“There you two are!” Lily smiled widely as they settled into their seats next to her. “We couldn’t find you after the dances. Did you take a step out for some air?”

“Did Peter find a turtle on the Hogwarts grounds and try to release it back into the wild, only to find out that it was a land turtle and not an aquatic turtle when he threw it into the Black Lake?” Sirius asked, matter-of-fact. 

James burst into laughter, covering his mouth with his fist to suppress the noise. Just behind him, Hermione saw Harry and Ginny slice into their cake and feed each other a small piece.

“I forgot about that, Pads. I think the Giant Squid ended up eating Thomas,” James said between laughs.

“Thomas?” Hermione asked, looking to Sirius.

“The turtle.” Sirius winked.

She gasped. “That’s horrible!”

Generous slices of salted caramel chocolate cake appeared on the plates of everyone in the reception, served by the magical catering service that Ginny had sworn by.

Remus was silent, his brow knitted together as he stared at Sirius with a stoney expression.

“Remus, are you okay?” Tonks placed her hand on his and squeezed it gently, looking concerned.

His nostrils flared and he continued to glare at Sirius, who was innocently poking at the cake with the tines of his fork.

Digging his fork into the chocolate cake, James brought the bite halfway up to his mouth before pausing and looking between his friends. Hermione could feel her heart rate pick up, and she knew her blush was growing darker but the more she tried to stop it the worse it felt. 

Remus _knew_. His heightened senses were able to pick up even subtle scents and she was positive that she reeked of Sirius. Her stomach plummeted when she remembered how Remus had heard her listening in from the hall during Christmas and felt sheer mortification at the thought of him having heard anything they’d said or done outside.

“How was your walk for air, Sirius?” Remus couldn’t have sounded more tense.

With a cheeky grin, Sirius replied, “It was _refreshing_ , but I think you already know that, Moony.”

James’ brows pulled together with growing confusion as he tried to piece together what was happening. When his eyes landed on Hermione and flew back to Sirius, his fork dropped in horror.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Is there something wrong with the cake?” Lily asked, inspecting his slice closer.

“No.” James’ voice sounded tight and he pushed away his plate. “I’m just suddenly not hungry.”

With a smirk, Sirius quipped, “Strange, I’m rather ravenous myself, seems I’ve worked up quite an appetite tonight.”

Hermione thought she heard Remus growl but it was difficult to tell over the sound of the music. She kicked Sirius under the table before taking a bite of cake. “This is _delicious_ , Lily, did you help them pick out the cake?”

“I did!” Lily beamed. If she noticed the palpable tension at the table—and the implication of what she and Sirius had done outside—she was polite enough not to mention it. “So did James. It was actually the only wedding planning event we could convince him to attend, though he had a stomach ache for days after it.”

“Just like Harry,” Hermione teased. “Those Potter boys and their sugar addiction. I think Harry’s strategically hidden sweets all over the flat for when he comes to visit.”

She followed Lily’s gaze over to Ginny and Harry who were sitting at their sweethearts table with their heads close together, and Harry whispered something that made Ginny laugh. 

“That’s my son,” Lily murmured with a teary smile.

“And now you have a daughter too,” Hermione added with a small smile. “Ginny’s marrying into a wonderful family.”

Lily’s expression softened and she placed her hand over Hermione’s and squeezed. “I’ve had a daughter for years already. Who would’ve thought I’d be lucky enough to have two?”

* * *

After dessert and a few more veiled comments to his best mates, Sirius rose from his seat and offered his hand to her. “May I have this dance?”

“I’d be delighted.” She took his hand and he led her out to the dance floor where several couples were already dancing and the music changed.

She gasped, looking up at him as he settled his other hand on her waist. “Did you set this up? I didn’t realise they’d play a Muggle song.”

Humming softly along with the music, he grinned. “I may have some connections. I happen to know the groom’s family.”

“Here comes the sun,” she sang along softly as they moved, him leading her with every step. She found herself getting lost in the music, in each step they took in sync. “I never realised you knew how to dance.”

He scoffed in faux offense. “I’m hurt that you think I wouldn’t. James told me that you were always dancing at their house growing up. He said it was one of your favourite things to do outside of reading.”

“It was. Are you surprised?”

“Of course not, I know my witch.” He lifted his hand, twirling her in place. “After all, to be fond of dancing is a certain step towards falling in love.”


	27. Remnants in a Vial

Hermione woke up to the feeling of Sirius’ fingertips brushing a loose curl away from her neck and shoulder, followed by his lips on her skin.

“It just isn’t fair,” he murmured against her neck.

She fought back a yawn and stretched, extending her arms and arching her back before letting them drop back to the bed. “What isn’t fair?”

“That I’m busy trying to sleep and you look like _this_.” His hands drifted down her body, tracing the curve of her hips to prove his point. The lingering brush of his lips sent a burst of warmth through her body, and she was sure she would never tire of this feeling.

Just before she could retort, he twisted and pulled her hips back, pressing himself against her. She let out an involuntary groan and felt a familiar throb building between her thighs.

When he shifted his weight and his forehead rested on her shoulder, she angled her neck in the worst possible way just to be able to kiss the top of his head. His hand slipped around to the apex of her thighs, his fingertips pausing over her covered clit before slipping beneath the edge of the elastic. “Don’t tease me,” she complained, wiggling her hips in protest. 

“Says the witch pushed up against my cock,” he whispered, plunging a finger into her.

“Is that a complaint?”

He added a second finger and his breath caught, his groan muffled against her shoulder. “Such a good girl, already wet for me.”

Her eyes fluttered shut and she continued to grind her arse against him, still half drowsy with sleep.

“Do you feel how you swallow my fingers? But they’re not enough, right? You need more,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Y-yes,” she whimpered in agreement.

“Tell me what you need, love. Tell me and I’ll give you anything.”

With a stubborn huff, she continued rocking against his hand, nearly crying out in disappointment when he pulled his fingers away.

A blush settled on her cheeks and she choked out, “Fine. I want your cock, _please_ , Sirius.”

He dragged her knickers down her thighs and she was grateful she hadn’t slept in anything else because there was nothing like the feeling of his skin against hers.

Propping himself up with his elbow, the tip of his cock slid between her legs and he surged forward, keeping his thrusts short and shallow. When she tried to rock backwards—to make him fill her completely—he pulled away. “Someone is impatient this morning.”

“You said _anything_ ,” she whined. “Please give me more. I’ll be so good.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, pushing another inch into her; his fingers gripped her hips and his face was buried in her curls. “What do you want?”

“You.” Her voice came out breathy and needy, and she barely recognised it. 

Sirius swore under his breath before burying himself in her, stretching her around his thick length. “I want to keep you like this forever, love.”

“Then do.” She’d lost count of the number of times he’d been inside her in the last week and she still wanted more. 

The room filled with their soft gasps and the gentle slap of skin on skin as he wrapped one arm around her midsection with his chest pressed to her back. He lowered his hand between her thighs, with his fingertips brushing over the spot where they were joined. His thumb dipped between her folds and teased her swollen clit. The roll of his hips slowed to a sensual pace while he pressed a series of slow kisses along her neck and shoulder, sending a flurry of butterflies down to her stomach. 

She rocked back to meet each push of his hips, encouraging him to continue his ministrations on her clit. “Just like that,” she moaned. “Don’t stop.”

Her thighs began to tremble and she felt herself unraveling with every thrust. All at once, her orgasm pulled her under and she tumbled into ecstasy, letting out a strangled cry into the sheets.

“You’re perfect,” he choked out, his thrusts growing erratic as she clenched and unclenched around him. His hips stuttered and he finished inside her with a wordless cry.

Cradling her against him, Sirius nuzzled against her neck and laid open mouth kisses against her skin. She let out a sigh of satisfaction and let herself sink into the feeling of his arms around her. Her eyes grew heavy and she fell back asleep to the sound of her boyfriend whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

* * *

It took them a few more hours of sleep and a shared shower before they were ready to go over to the Potters, but just before she could hand him the bag of Floo powder, an owl appeared at the window.

Sirius ripped open the letter and skimmed the contents. “Marshall needs help, apparently Thorfinn Rowle already crashed his bike and wanted to see if we could salvage it.” He rolled his eyes and tossed the letter onto the nearby end table. “Do you mind if I go to the shop and help her with the quote? It shouldn’t take too long and then I’ll stop by Potter cottage afterwards.”

“Of course, want me to bring the souvenirs for Teddy?”

He placed a kiss on the crown of her head and then retrieved his leather jacket from the nearby coat rack. “Please. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Bye, love,” she called just before he closed the front door behind him.

Luckily they only had a few trinkets and sweets for Teddy, and she quickly gathered them before travelling through the Floo.

Something felt off the moment she stepped out of the fireplace, and it took her several moments to place the reason behind the feeling. It had been months since she arrived at Potter Cottage without Sirius by her side.

They’d just spent the weekend in Italy at a villa she’d rented. After a few days of gorging themselves on delicious food, decadent wine, and deliriously good sex, she was sated in every sense of the word. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so carefree and Sirius had even convinced her to skinny dip in the pool with him on the last night.

The trip had been everything she’d hoped for and more.

“Knock knock,” Hermione said with a grin, standing in the doorway of James’ office. 

He was surrounded by piles of parchment and manilla folders stuffed with documents. Looking up, his hazel eyes landed on the pile of gifts she was carrying. “Are those for me?” he teased. “And here I thought you wouldn’t think to bring me back something from Italy.”

“Of course, how could I ever forget how much you love dragon stuffies and never-melting strawberry gelato?” she quipped, shrugging her shoulders while balancing the toy in question in the crook of her arm. “Sirius had to run into the shop. He sends his apologies but he’ll be stopping by later on.”

“That’s quite alright. I think Lily and Remus are still cooking anyway.”

“And Tonks?”

“Supervising, of course. Speaking of Sirius, his case is officially closed at the Ministry.” He tapped the top of the folder in front of him with his index finger. “Took longer than I was hoping—bit of a mess for auditing if I’m being honest—but what can you expect with the government?”

She snorted at that. “You’re starting to sound like Sirius.”

“James!” Lily’s voice echoed from down the hall. 

His ears pricked up. “I’ll be right back, I think the damn oven is acting up again.”

He rushed out of the office and she dropped the pile of presents on the empty chair across from the desk, her gaze fixed on the file that he had been reading.

She knew that she shouldn’t peek at the contents of Sirius’ case but her curiosity was growing by the second. They knew next to nothing about the circumstances of his time travel and James hadn’t exactly been forthcoming on the details of the investigation with the Department of Time. If they were closing his case, this would be her only chance to look through his file and the Auror’s report.

Before she had the sense to stop herself, she was settling into James’ seat and flipping through the pages of testimonies. 

_Unidentified cause of explosion_.

The phrase caught her eye and she went back to read through the paragraph. It was a quote from an Unspeakable following an old statement Remus gave, dated twenty years ago—it made sense now that he would’ve been interviewed after Sirius disappeared but she’d never thought to ask before.

After skimming the full page, she realised the statement made no mention of the jar of dirt that Sirius had told her about.

A silhouette appeared in the doorway and she jolted in place, dropping the papers onto the desk. “Remus.”

Her mind fumbled through a dozen possible excuses but she knew that he wouldn’t believe any of them. He always knew when she was lying.

“James mentioned you might need help carrying the gifts in for Teddy,” he said slowly, his eyes flicking down to the abandoned folder in front of her. “What are you doing with Sirius’ file?”

Instead of answering his question, she was surprised when the first thing that left her mouth was, “What were you doing in Egypt?”

He blinked, taken aback. With a backwards glance, he closed the door behind him and crossed the room. “How do you know about Egypt?”

“Sirius mentioned it a while back.”

Pressing his lips to a thin line, he shifted his weight on either foot and sighed, “I don’t know what to tell you because I’m not even sure I knew why I was there, just that I had to go.”

“What does that even mean?” She frowned. No matter the topic, she’d always been able to rely on Remus for a straightforward answer in the past.

“I went the summer after we left Hogwarts. Because of my...condition, I’d always expected that my friends would move on to get married and have families while I couldn’t. When the time came, I had underestimated how difficult it would actually be.”

“James proposed to Lily,” she whispered, piecing the timeline together.

He nodded. “I was happy for them, truly, but I just felt called to explore the world by myself. I went to a few countries and after a handful of detours, I ended the journey in Egypt before coming home.”

Drumming her fingertips on the desk, she gestured to the paper in front of her. “I haven’t seen anything about Egypt or the jar of dirt in your interview. Why didn’t you tell the Aurors? Surely that would’ve helped their investigation.”

“James,” he answered quietly, wringing his hands in front of himself. “The Aurors on the scene said in their entire careers they’d never seen anyone survive a magical blast that powerful, so we thought there was no way we would ever get Sirius back. James told me if I admitted sneaking in an unregistered substance across borders that he would’ve lost two best friends that night because I’d spend the rest of my life in Azkaban.”

“ _What_?” Her mouth fell open in shock. “Surely they wouldn’t have sent you to Azkaban for an accident! It’s not like you had malicious intent.”

“They wouldn’t have cared about intent. I’m a _werewolf_ , Hermione. There wouldn’t have been a second chance for me.” He let out a humourless chuckle. “There was hardly a first chance for me to begin with.”

She thought of Cassidy’s story, of what she had to go through even with modern protections for werewolves. The persecution must’ve been tenfold back then.

“Sirius said the dirt was some sort of souvenir that you used for decoration. Where did it come from?”

He winced, as if in pain. “I didn’t know anything about it, and it was given to me by a Seer.”

Furrowing her brows, she replied, “That doesn’t make any sense. You don’t believe in Seers.”

Throughout her years at Hogwarts, Remus had been open about his scepticism for the field of Divination and as a result, Hermione had dropped the course as soon as she was able.

“I suppose I did back then, when I was young. There was just something about this Seer that made me believe her. Before I left, she read my tea leaves for me and then she gifted me with the jar.”

“And you didn’t question it?” She struggled to imagine a young Remus, full of pain and loneliness, believing in the vague words of a random Seer. “What did she say?”

He gave her a helpless sort of shrug. “Some nonsense about how I’d come to see her in a hundred different lifetimes, that she knew me from my heart, and I was destined for the life that I’d always wanted. At the time, I’d wanted to believe that there was hope for a better future for me but now I know that she was just telling me what I wanted to hear.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

His eyes flew to hers and his shoulders sagged, weighed down by her question. “I honestly don’t know. When she handed me the jar, she said when the time came to use it, I’d have all the answers I’d been searching for. I still have no idea what she meant by that, and I tried to find her again after Sirius disappeared but it was as if she’d never existed. I couldn’t find any record of her in the village and no one had any memory of her or her shop.”

Something unspoken gnawed at her insides, like when she was trying to solve a particularly difficult problem back in school.

“I was nearly consumed with guilt and blamed myself for his death. I mean, I’d handled that jar a hundred times before. I had no way of knowing if it was the catalyst for his disappearance. That weekend, he’d visited Regulus, and James and I always thought he’d brought something back with him that caused the explosion.”

“But Sirius said he dropped it. I assume it combusted on impact?”

Remus’ head tilted to the side, considering her words. “Even that wouldn’t make sense. It was tossed around in my luggage and nothing happened. If that were the case, I would’ve been thrown into the future a dozen times by the time Sirius got his hands on it.”

“There must’ve been something different about the night he left then,” she murmured under her breath.

“Maybe you had to be intoxicated for it to work,” he quipped with a half-hearted smile.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, bad joke I suppose.” His fingers raked through his hair. “You know, because the night he came back, you’d said he needed a Sober-Up potion.” Her stomach plummeted and his eyes softened in concern. “Hermione? What’s going on?”

She couldn’t believe she’d never pieced it together before when it was suddenly so obvious. 

“He didn’t drop the jar and then disappear—he disappeared and dropped it in the process.”

Taking a step back, Remus’ expression shifted from worry to bewilderment. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“He told me when he was drunk he wore the old family ring, that he lost it the night he came to the present.” Her voice was quivering and she closed the file in front of her. “He had glass, goblin-forged gold, and dirt—that I’m assuming wasn’t actually _dirt_ but was Time Sand.”

A few moments of silence passed while he processed. “You think he created a makeshift Time-Turner? But he’d need intent—”

“—it was right after a fight with Regulus, right? He said he wished they hadn’t fought, that he wanted to have his brother back. He came to this time, where Regulus had changed and wanted a relationship with him.”

“Shit.”

It was the first time she’d ever heard Remus swear, he’d always been so levelheaded, and it put her on edge.

“I’d never been able to test it, I mean, not that we had the resources or ability, but we could’ve had some answers at least,” he muttered, pacing the short distance in front of the desk. “We tried at first but everything was a dead end, and then when James started moving up in his career, we couldn’t risk it, and we thought Sirius was gone either way.”

“I don’t understand, what do you mean? Test what?”

His jaw clenched and she could see fine lines pressed at the corners of his eyes. “I was the first one back to the flat after the accident and called James over. He helped me gather the rest of the dirt—sand—and we kept the remnants in a vial.”

Blood roared in her ears and she jumped up from her seat, watching him as he approached the nearby portrait and swung it open to reveal a safe. 

“James kept the vial. We’d tried to figure out what to do with it but we didn’t recognise what it was. Like I said, our running theory was that Sirius had some old Black family heirloom with magic that went awry.” He twisted the combination and the door popped open with a click.

It felt like time slowed around her while he rummaged through the safe and pulled out a tiny glass container filled with light blue sand. If her intuition was correct, Remus was holding the missing piece to her Time-Turner.

She had a million questions but the only one she could think to ask was “What would you do if you had to choose between your happiness and Tonks’ happiness? Knowing that no matter what you did, it’d break your heart?” Her voice cracked on the last word and Remus’ eyes widened.

His hold on the vial tightened and he looked down at it. “Putting the needs of someone else above your own is the purest form of love,” he replied simply, the corners of his lips tugged down. “I’d give up anything for her, no matter the cost.”

She nodded quickly, blinking away the tears that blurred her vision. “C-can I have the vial?”

“What do you want to do with it?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. “Hermione—”

“I think it’s best I don’t tell you, Remus.” She twisted her hands together and whispered, “Can you just trust me?”

After several silent moments, his eyes searched hers and he nodded, pressing the glass vial into the palm of her hand.

* * *

By the time Hermione rushed through the fireplace and pulled open the drawer where she’d hidden the Time-Turner, her hands were shaking so violently that she had to stop twice to steady herself for fear that she would drop the necklace. Working as quickly as possible, she dissected the hourglass and replaced the sand with the remnants of Remus’ Time Sand. She didn’t allow herself to think about what this would mean for Sirius if she was correct; she just needed to find out if it worked. 

When she scanned the necklace once more, she found herself wishing it would come back with no change so she could say she’d truly done everything she could to help him before tossing it out for good.

It shone a bright green. 

Even in a smaller quantity, there was enough power in the Time Sand to make the trip back.

In her peripheral, she saw a flash of movement and her pulse stuttered to a stop. Her attention flew up to the pair of silver eyes that were watching her from the doorway, staring intently. The walls of the room seemed to collapse in on her and there was a ringing in her ears that only seemed to grow louder by the second.

“Sirius,” she breathed.

He wasn’t supposed to be home yet, he wasn’t supposed to find out like this. She had a _plan_ , she was supposed to have more time. But he was here and there was no turning back, not now, not when he—

“Crisis averted,” he declared with a wide grin. “I think we can fix the bike. It’ll cost Rowle a pretty Sickle though.” She felt the colour drain from her face as his curious gaze fell on the Time-Turner in her hands. “Did you bring home work with you? You’re supposed to be on holiday still.” 

“No.” She cleared her throat as best she could with the lump growing in it as she tried to decide her next words. “I mean, it was in the pouch of a Niffler I found while I was working but they don’t know I have it.”

His smile fell and was replaced with a look of unease. “I don’t understand.” 

“I stole it.” Her voice sounded tight and unnatural, even to her own ears. “I stole it for you.”

“Is it—”

“—it’s real.”

There was a tic in his jaw, the only indication that he heard her. “We have to get this to James,” he muttered, almost to himself. “He’ll know how to sneak it into the Ministry; he’ll know how to cover this up before anyone notices that it's even gone.” His words were dull and expressionless, and she’d never heard him sound hollow like that before.

“What?” Her grip on the necklace tightened until her knuckles turned white. “No! No, we can’t return it, not when I just made it functional again. I’ve spent months—”

“ _Months_?” he choked on the word with a sort of gasp. “You’ve hidden this from me for _months_?”

She started pacing, and once she started, she couldn’t stop, as if her feet needed to keep moving to quell the growing panic inside her. “But it wasn’t functional yet—Sirius, it didn’t work and I—”

“Have you gone mad?”

“W-what?” she stuttered.

“You’d ruin your whole life, and for what? You’d be _arrested_ , Hermione, put on trial and thrown in Azkaban for life. You’d lose your career, your family, your entire future for nothing.” The anger in his voice took her by surprise and she winced.

“Not for nothing!” She shook her head frantically, taking a step closer to him. “For you.”

His nostrils flared and he gritted his teeth, taking a deep breath through his nose as if steeling himself. “There really was a stolen Time-Turner.” He dragged a hand down his face, pinching his eyes shut. “ _That’s_ why they interrogated me for hours just for making a joke about having a stolen Time-Turner when I first arrived, because one was actually missing. _What the fuck were you thinking_?”

“I was thinking about you, I knew that you would want to go back and—”

“You think you _knew_ , did you? When James and Remus tried to make a choice for you, you were furious and all along _you_ ”—he raised a shaking finger to her—“you’ve been doing this behind my back for months and you never even thought to ask me.”

It felt like a weight had settled on her chest, making each breath a struggle. “I was just trying to—I couldn’t—I’m so sorry. You have to understand, I did this _for_ you.”

Where she couldn’t stop moving, Sirius seemed frozen in place. “What was the trip to Italy then? Some sort of _goodbye_? Did you take me there to live out one final weekend in the present before throwing me back in time?” 

“No! No, I didn’t—god, I mean, I had the necklace but I didn’t have the sand—”

He let out an incredulous exhale. “That’s fucked up.”

Her legs felt wobbly beneath her as she crossed the room to him, her eyes pleading as she looked up at him.

“Why?” he asked, the single word sounded like torment.

“You said you wanted to go home.” Her lips trembled and her eyes burned with tears. “I wanted you to be able to go _home_.”

His face crumpled in the most horrible way, his hands clenching and unclenching relentlessly at his sides. “I knew it,” he rasped, his voice so low that she could barely understand him. “I fucking knew it.”

“Knew what?” She’d been so careful—checked the wards every day and there was never a sign he’d found the necklace or tampered with the wards. 

Then his brow furrowed and his eyes darted around the floor. His hands tugged at his hair and balled into fists. “I have to go.”

“Go? Go where?” Panic doubled down inside her and she reached for him only for him to flinch and pull back from her touch.

He didn’t respond; his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, growing more shallow by the second. “I have to go. Don’t—don’t follow me, I just...I can’t—fuck.” It was nothing more than fragments, like he couldn’t catch his breath long enough to say anything.

“Please, just talk to me,” she pleaded, knowing she sounded desperate.

He just shook his head, his lips twisted and trembled, and then he was turning away from her and it felt like a slap across her face.

“Sirius!”

But he didn’t hesitate. He didn’t turn back around. He didn’t stop. 

When he disappeared into the green flames of the fireplace, it felt like something was breaking in Hermione’s chest, splintering into a thousand fragments.

And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! I have two quick notes. First, I am so sorry the timing of this chapter posting was Valentine's Day! Second, I've been going back and forth for months on if I want to combine 28 and the epilogue or not, and I decided to post them separately which is why I bumped the total chapter count to 29. I hope you have a happy Valentine's Day and again, apologies on the bad timing!


	28. Home

It was heartbreak.

There was no other word to describe the ache in her chest, the torment that strangled her every breath, the anguish as her mind replayed the look in his eyes over and over again.

The entire world had turned to grey in his absence and every moment that passed without Sirius felt like an agonising hour.

When she noticed his jumper lying on the sofa, she couldn’t help herself from bringing it up to her nose and inhaling his scent. She pulled it over her head and sank into the sofa, fighting back the voice in her head that was screaming for her to go after him. But she couldn’t betray his wishes again.

So instead, she curled up on the sofa and waited for him to return, or send an owl, lost in her own thoughts.

For as long as Hermione could remember, she had never been anyone’s first choice.

During Hogwarts, she had watched Ron run off with Lavender—the first of many witches he would see during their cycles of dating and breaking up—and he only wanted Hermione once that relationship had fallen out and his other options dried up.

The winter during her seventh year, she met a Muggle boy named Benjamin who had been her weekend romance during a skiing holiday she’d taken with her parents. On the final night of their holiday, he told her that he’d met another girl on the ski lifts the night before and wanted to see where it went. He told her he would call her if it didn’t work out.

Then she had a whirlwind relationship with Cormac who had cheated the whole time they were together and told her all the ways that she’d never be enough.

Hell, Harry was her brother and she hadn’t been his first choice. At the start of their first year, he and Ron had been inseparable and Hermione had faded into the background. It wasn’t until she and Harry were partnered for potions and spent time together away from Ron that they started to grow closer.

In short, she was tired of being the backup.

It wore on her soul to know that Sirius was only with her in the present because he couldn’t have what he truly wanted—to go home. Even if he hadn’t always said it, she could see the pain in his eyes during every big moment and knew that he was mourning all that he’d lost to time. Watching him plaster on a smile and throw in a quip to mask his hurt chipped away at her bit by bit. It was her every insecurity and unspoken fear wrapped up with a neat little bow, and she would always know that even with him, she was his second choice.

The worst part of it all was that she knew she had no excuse. 

She had been unforgivably selfish, and deep down she’d known that all along.

Every time she’d thought to tell him about the Time-Turner—about the future waiting for him—he would give her a look that made her feel like the only witch in the world. The temptation to keep every remaining moment she had with him untainted and pure had been too strong. 

Her biggest fear had been that if he’d known he could go back to his timeline, she would be nothing more than a placeholder. She couldn’t imagine how lonely it would feel to have him right next to her and know that he was already gone.

Once she had the presence of mind to do so, she scribbled a message to James and Remus, and another to Regulus, hoping that Sirius had gone to see one of them. Sirius had just come back from the shop, so she didn’t think he would go there when he could be with one of his brothers. It took several treats to convince Ollie and Hazel to deliver her letters—they had glared and nipped at her but finally relented and took flight in opposite directions.

Hermione made tea to distract herself, and by the time she finished her first cup there was a tapping sound at the window. She was surprised to see that the sun was nearly setting. She’d lost track of time in her haze; hours must have passed, and after her first onset of tears, she hadn’t felt much of anything but numb. Hazel flew through with a letter from Regulus—a simple apology explaining that he hadn’t seen Sirius and an offer to help look for him. A single teardrop fell onto the letter and then another and another until the ink blurred.

She was halfway through penning a reply when the fireplace lit up. Her heart leapt into her throat and she hurried across the room, willing Sirius to step through the flames.

“James,” she whispered.

Hermione knew that her face had to have been flushed and her eyes were probably red and puffy because one look and suddenly James’ arms were wrapped around her, pulling her in tight.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice laced with worry. “Sirius is a wreck; he said you broke up with him and wanted him to leave. I didn’t know if that was why he was at the shop this morning, if maybe you two had a row, but we couldn’t get a straight answer out of him.”

“What?” She pulled away from the embrace and felt a fresh wave of tears flood her eyes. “I didn’t—that’s not what happened—that’s not what I said!”

James sagged with relief and nudged his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Remus and I thought. I knew there had to have been something more to it. What happened?”

Her feet felt like they were weighed down with lead as she shuffled over to the end table where the Time-Turner was sitting. Hanging her head, she extended her hand and displayed the necklace in her palm. 

If she hadn’t already been crying, the look of utter disappointment that he gave her would’ve made her burst into tears.

“I wanted to give him back everything he lost,” she admitted in a whisper. “James, I’ve never met someone who deserves happiness more than him.”

“Shouldn’t it be up to him to decide where he finds that happiness?”

Fiddling with the necklace chain, she kept her eyes trained on the ground and nodded. “But it _is_ up to him. I wasn’t going to force him to do anything—I wanted to give him the ability to choose what he wanted but he left before I could fully explain. He just heard that I’d hidden it for months while I was trying to fix it and then he left.”

Shame compounded inside her when James’ lips tightened into a thin line. “You lied to him for months?”

“It was…” She closed her eyes and took several steadying breaths. “I didn’t think of it as lying, but it was. I just couldn’t tell him, James, not when I could have a little more time with him.”

He gave her a pitying look. “You hid something important from him and now he thinks that you don’t care about him enough to have him stay. Can you see how that would feel to someone with Sirius’ past?” he probed gently. “He never opens up, never trusts anyone like he has with you. He told us you didn’t want him anymore and that you told him to leave.”

“I didn’t—” Her breath hitched and she felt herself spiraling. “I said that he could finally go home.”

His eyes pinched shut. “I see what Sirius meant.” Before she could ask what he was talking about, he added, “It would be irresponsible of me if I didn’t remind you of the repercussions if you were caught with a stolen Time-Turner.”

Nodding, she shrunk into herself. “I know, but I don’t care about the consequences. If I know that he’s happy, then it was worth it.”

James smiled softly at that.

“Is he...is he okay?” 

“Not even close. He already drank all my good liquor and has barricaded himself in my office,” he muttered. “Remus is on Sirius duty while I came to retrieve you.”

“I can come see him?” She felt a shred of hope and lit up at the possibility. “I wanted to go earlier but he told me not to follow him.”

He tucked an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “You let me worry about Sirius. After the stunt he pulled with me in our fifth year with Marlene McKinnon, I’d say he owes me.”

After slipping the necklace into her pocket, Hermione sighed. “I can’t believe I still need your help cleaning up my problems.”

“Hermione, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I think you forget that Remus and I were once your age.”

“When you were my age, you were _married_ with a baby, and you and Lily haven’t fought a day in your life,” she said bitterly. “It’s not the same.”

James barked out a laugh and it took her by surprise. “Is that what you think? I wish that were true. When we were in our twenties, after a particularly big row, I slept on our sofa for almost two weeks and we didn’t talk once.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you fix it?” 

“We decided to fight for each other and tackled our problems together. You two are so young; you have an entire life ahead of you. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret when you’re my age—you or Sirius.”

Sniffling, she wiped her nose on her sleeve and tucked her head closer to his chest. She whispered, “I don’t want him to go.”

“Then tell him that. Tell him to stay.”

“I can’t ask that of him, not when I know everything he’d be giving up.” Her voice quivered and she pushed a stray curl away from her face. “It’s not fair of me to put that on him.”

“Close your eyes,” he instructed suddenly.

She stared at him and frowned, but he repeated himself with a wave of his hands until she obliged.

“Imagine that you are five years in the future. What do you see?”

Her mind began to race with ideas, of what she wanted to do, who she wanted to be. “Well, in five years I would want to be at least a department manager at the Ministry. I’ve always wanted to get another cat after Crookshanks, and I know that Siriu—” her voice caught and she swallowed, losing the rest of her sentence.

“Ten years? What’s ten years from now?” James prompted, and she could hear a slight smile in his voice.

“In ten years, I want to own a home. I’d love something cosy with plenty of room for my books and knitting supplies. Maybe not too out of the way but somewhere close enough to be by family. Perhaps we could find—”

“—we?” he interrupted.

She felt her cheeks heat up as she tried to ignore the point he made with his interjection. “I’ve always wanted to travel more, and I know there are so many places I could go. I loved Italy and I know that we—that _I_ would be happy almost anywhere.”

“Hermione?”

Opening her eyes, she came face to face with a solemn looking James. 

“Do you see any part of your future that doesn’t include Sirius?”

The longer she thought about his question, the more terrified she was of the answer. At every moment in her future—big or small—she envisioned Sirius by her side.

Her silence said everything she couldn’t find the words to describe, and he pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head before releasing her from his hold.

“Come with me, you’re going to talk to Sirius before the two of you drive us all mad.”

She followed James through the fireplace and they travelled through the halls of Potter cottage towards James’ office.

“...understand.” The word was muffled but sounded like Remus. 

“ _No_.” The catch in Sirius’ voice stopped her in her tracks. “You weren’t there.”

“Then tell me,” Remus coaxed. “Tell me _exactly_ what she said, not what you _think_ she was saying.”

James paused in front of the door and gave her a quick look.

“She told me to take the damn Time-Turner and go home.”

After a moment, Remus probed, “Were those her words?”

There was no reply and she could only assume that he had nodded.

“I don’t know why she wants me to leave, why she thinks back then is my home.” Sirius’ breath stumbled like a sob. “I’m already home.”

His declaration gripped her heart like a vice. In that moment, all she wanted to do was break down the door and hold him.

“I don’t think that’s what she meant, mate. I just saw her this morning and she thought she had to choose between—”

“You just don’t _get_ it, Moony. You don’t know her the way I do, it’s not—”

James let out an exhale and knocked on the closed door, making the room fall silent.

It felt like forever before the door opened and Remus offered a sad smile in greeting, stepping aside for her to enter.

Sirius, who had been draped across the loveseat along the edge of the room, froze when he saw her. Tears clung to her lashes and she wiped them away only for them to be replaced with new ones just a second later. He jumped to a standing position and she twisted her hands in front of herself, watching him numbly.

He was on the brink of tears at the sight of her and she’d never seen him like that before. His hands twitched at his sides, as if he wanted to comfort her but stopped himself. 

After rummaging through the cupboard next to his desk, James silently handed a small bottle of Sober-Up potion to Sirius and prompted him to drink with a gentle nudge. Sirius hadn’t looked away from Hermione yet, as if he were afraid that she’d disappear if he blinked. He downed the bottle in one gulp and James patted him once on the back, murmuring something in his ear. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered Remus and James slipping out of the room and closing the door quietly behind them.

“You should leave,” he finally said, blinking rapidly to push away the tears in his eyes.

“You…” She steeled herself, letting an invisible force pull her closer to him as she crossed the room. “You don’t want to see me?”

“I can’t hear you say it,” he muttered. “I can’t hear you say those words.”

“Sirius—” Her voice broke on his name.

“I can’t even be upset with you because it’s my own damn fault.” He sounded tortured, his fingers curled into fists at his side. “I knew all along that I was too fucked up for you and I knew you deserved better. More than anything I just knew that it’s never that easy for someone like me—”

“That’s not true.” Her throat burned and she pulled at the sleeves of the jumper in a nervous tic. “Sirius, you deserve the world. You deserve—”

“Did you bring it with you?” The question sounded more like an accusation. 

She nodded, her hand settling over the lump in her pocket. When she pulled the necklace out, he winced. 

“You’re wearing my jumper.”

“It smells like you,” she whispered.

His eyes skated down her body before landing on the necklace and flying back up to her face. “So tell me, what was the plan? I go back and _then what_?”

“Then you get to live,” she finally managed to say, the words twisting in her throat. “You see Harry off on his first day at King’s Cross, you attend the ceremony where James becomes Head Auror, you speak at Remus’ wedding, you watch your brother grow and change into a better person, you see the birth of your nephew… Sirius, you get everything you were robbed of from the last twenty years.”

He swore under his breath. “Did you notice something missing from that?”

She knitted her brow and ran through the list in her mind, trying to recall other major events that occurred while he was gone.

“Fuck, Hermione—you! I’d get all of that back but I’d lose _you_!” he exploded, throwing a hand out in front of him.

Fidgeting in place, she rocked back onto her heels. “You’d still have me, just...in a different way.”

“No.” His eyes flashed. “I wouldn’t, because you wouldn’t be my Hermione, my Starling— _my—mine._ ”

Her lips trembled but she didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t help but think that in any universe, she would still be his.

His grey eyes clouded with pain and he crossed over to the window, staring out for a moment before saying, “I’m not going back unless you come with me.”

Lips parting, her gaze fell to the necklace in her hands, wishing it were that easy. “I can’t…I can’t exist in the same timeline twice, not for an extended period of time. It breaks so many laws of time and magic—it could make time itself unstable.” 

“You know the same as I do that time is the most complicated branch of magic. What makes you think this would even work?”

“This is the same sand that brought you here and it passes all of the diagnostic spells,” she insisted, thinking back to her analysis on the necklace. “Theoretically, it has the level of power that it needs to send you back twenty years.”

He turned back towards her, looking bewildered at her response. “I don’t mean the mechanics of it, Hermione. I could go back and it could change _everything_! Without the newspaper article, Regulus never goes to the _Daily Prophet_ where he met Mary. Not to mention that there are a million ways my presence could change the present! What if James takes a case he didn’t in this timeline and he dies on the job? What if Remus comes out with me one night and never meets Tonks? What if—”

“—I get it!” she cut him off, half hysterical. She pressed her trembling lips together and wrapped her arms around herself. “I get it, we don’t know what could happen. Yes, it could be worse, but it could also be better and Sirius, you deserve the chance to be there for all of it. You deserve that life that you lost.”

“You honestly believe after everything that I could go back to a time before you? Before us?” His voice cracked on the last word; his questions cut at her until she felt like she was raw and bleeding. 

Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes and took several long strides, pausing just in front of him. His gaze softened and he lifted his hand to cup her cheek; his fingertips brushed across her skin like she was made of porcelain before he caught himself and pulled away, as if touching her had become an involuntary reflex that he had to consciously fight. 

“Best case scenario, somehow nothing changes in my past up to today. I’d still go back to a time where you’re a literal _infant_ , where I wouldn’t meet you for a decade until Harry brings you home from school with him when you’re eleven and I’d have to pretend that I hadn’t spent the last ten years of my life dying with every breath I spent apart from you.” His throat constricted with a harsh swallow and he released a low exhale. “Have you ever stopped to think about what it would do to me? How it would feel for me to see you and know that you didn’t know who I am or what you are to me?”

It was so much worse than she’d ever imagined; each word ripped at her soul, unraveling until there was nothing left to hold her together.

She didn’t want to believe that there was a chance he would stay; she couldn’t give herself that hope. He’d said he wanted to leave, that he would take the opportunity if he had the chance.

“Why am I not enough?” 

His question left her breathless.

“It’s not that you’re not enough—it’s never been that. It’s that I know that _I’m_ not enough to make up for everything you’ve lost.” Her hands dropped to her sides, her fingertips catching the chain before the necklace fell. “I’m so sorry that I lied to you, Sirius. You deserve better than me and I was selfish to keep it from you.” 

He shook his head adamantly and muttered, “You’re wrong.”

She could barely get the words out between her tears, her throat so tight it was hard to breathe. “You’ll find someone new, you’ll make a life—live your life the way you should’ve.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Lifting her hand to her face, she brushed away her tears with the edge of Sirius’ jumper. “It doesn’t matter what I want. It only matters what you want. I was talking with Remus about Egypt—”

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he said, “Remus told me about the Seer and what he thought she meant but he misunderstood her.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Did you consider that maybe I was supposed to come here? That maybe I wasn’t _meant_ to live out my own timeline?”

She was silent and he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

“I couldn’t live with the fact that you’d never know how you changed my life in a million ways. You’d never know _you’re_ the reason I sing when I make breakfast, or why I sleep on the left side of the bed because you hate the left. It’s ridiculous but I know every word to the Titanic after you made me watch it a dozen times, and whenever I see a toaster I can’t help but think of where to put it next to make you laugh. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I had a hot chocolate without adding Fizz Wizz even though it’s disgusting because it always makes you smile and when you smile it’s like everything is right with the world. Starling, even if I had a thousand years I’d never, never be able to go back to the man I was before I started lov—”

“Don’t—” It felt like her heart was cracking inside her. “I can’t—if you say it, I won’t be strong enough to say goodbye.”

“—before I started loving you,” he finished, cupping her cheeks with his hands and pulling her lips to his. Their tears blended together on their cheeks. “I’m here because I love you. I’m home because _you_ are home. Don’t say goodbye; there doesn’t have to be a goodbye.”

He loved her.

He _loved_ her.

He loved her enough to give up his past and choose her as his future, and no one had ever loved her like that.

The Time-Turner fell from her hand to the floor, cracking as it landed beneath them.

Her fingers carded through his hair, sinking into his touch.

“I don’t want you to go,” she admitted, more of a sob than words, finally saying what she’d needed to say all along. “I want you to stay with me and never leave. Sirius, I love you.”

He kissed her, over and over until she’d lost count, breaking apart only to whisper, “Say it again.”

And she did, even though she could barely get the words out before his lips were on hers again. 

Her magic sang inside her and she lost track of the time in his arms but found she didn’t care; it could’ve been seconds, or even hours, before she asked, “I get to keep you?” 

It didn’t seem real when he nodded, brushing her fresh tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “I’m yours and yours alone for as long as you’ll have me, Starling.”

“Forever then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue posting soon! ❤️❤️❤️


	29. The Epilogue

_Two years later_

Hermione stared down at her flat stomach and the pale blue orb floating just above it, pulsing with a heartbeat.

Pregnant.

Ever since the day that Sirius told her he loved her, their relationship had been like something out of a dream. James had taken the Time-Turner back to the Ministry with no questions asked—which had made the constant teasing of his ability to dispose of a body seem even more believable—and Hermione and Sirius had truly started their lives together.

The last two years had been full of memories. They travelled to over a dozen countries together—leaving Amsterdam with a pair of matching tattoos of Sirius' design. Sirius opened a second shop with Marshall as the head manager, and Hermione became the youngest department head in the history of the Ministry and was well on her way to accomplishing her goal of becoming Minister for Magic.

Everything had been going so well that she began to believe that it might always be this way with Sirius.

Perhaps it was her complacency that made it so jarring when she first caught him in a lie.

Over the last month, she'd had a growing pit in her stomach and a newfound suspicion that he was hiding something from her. It was more of a series of small curiosities rather than a single large one. First, he began working odd hours at the shop when he'd had employees fill in before, then last week he'd hidden a letter in their desk when he thought she wasn't looking and it was mysteriously gone when she'd tried to find it the next morning, and finally he'd lied about going to Hogwarts with Remus to assist with his Boggart lesson. She knew the Hogwarts curriculum and Remus covered Boggarts in the first term; it was nearly the end of the school year, so he'd clearly already taught that lesson.

At first she thought she was just being paranoid because of her past with Cormac, thinking that perhaps she was looking for problems where there were none as a form of self sabotage, but there was no denying that every oddity indicated that he was hiding something from her.

With a thick swallow, she stared back down at the fluttering orb in front of her.

They'd been so careful; she didn't understand how this could've happened but she knew that even perfectly brewed contraceptive potions could fail.

A baby.

They'd talked about having kids for years but it had always been in an abstract sort of way, rather than a planned timeline. There was no way to know what his reaction would be to an actual pregnancy and this couldn't have come at a worse time; he'd been so strange acting as of late.

When she really thought about it, she wasn't even sure of her own reaction yet. She didn't know if she was ready to be a mum. Even if she'd always wanted to have a baby, seeing the positive pregnancy charm set off a myriad of emotions ranging from ecstatic to sheer terror and everything between.

Hermione heard the fireplace go off in the living room and she quickly ended her spell, tucking her wand back into her extendable pocket. Not twenty seconds later, Sirius rounded the corner and popped his head into their bedroom.

"There you are, love. Fancy going out for a flight?" he asked with an excited gleam in his eye. Just his mere presence helped settle her nerves. "I have a surprise for you."

"I have a surprise for you, too," she muttered with a weak smile.

His fingers tangled in hers and he tugged her hand until they were out of the room and down the hall. "Well, you can go next because I said it first and I'm far too impatient to wait."

"Don't forget, we have to bring Teddy to Diagon Alley this afternoon."

"We'll be back before then," he promised.

It wasn't until they were landing that Hermione had a panicked thought, wondering if it was safe for her to fly during pregnancy. It had only been twenty minutes since she found out she was going to be a mum and already she felt a strong need to protect the growing life inside her.

She was so distracted she barely registered that Sirius had landed in the middle of a field surrounded by trees, next to a small lake.

After dismounting, he lifted her by the waist and set her gently on the ground. "So?" he prompted, clearing his throat. His weight shifted back and forth and his eyes searched hers. "What do you think?"

With a cock of her head, she observed the area more closely. There were birds singing in the trees, the grass swayed in the wind, and the clear waters in the lake rippled.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, unconsciously placing her hand over her stomach as she inhaled the fresh air. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I thought that perhaps we had outgrown our little flat." He looped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "This bit of land came up and I made an offer on the spot, thinking it would be perfect for us to build a home on. It's a short flight to your parents' home, it's secluded enough to have our privacy without being too far from the city, and we can build you a balcony so you can take your morning tea overlooking the water."

It took no effort at all to envision making a home here, to imagine them raising their baby together and watching their family grow, and she couldn't stop the rush of tears that overwhelmed her at the thought.

A flash of dismay crossed his face. "I can always sell it, Starling, it doesn't have to be—"

"Don't sell it," she cut him off abruptly, blinking away this mist in her eyes. "I'm happy, I promise. I'm just taking it all in."

"You had your big promotion and we've been at the flat for a few years now. I just thought it would be the perfect next step for us. There's plenty of room to build just about anything you'd want and still have space for a yard. I always promised you that we'd get your swot space back." A smile teased at his lips.

"I'd like that," she murmured.

Gesturing out into the empty field, he added, "I think we may even find room in the cupboards for the toaster."

She hummed under her breath in mock consideration. "I don't know, I think I've grown rather fond of its nomadic qualities."

"Whatever you say, love. I want to build you the perfect home with everything you need."

Her hands tightened over her stomach and she released a shaky breath. "What do you think about a nursery?"

"Of course we can build a nursery. I mean, I'm no expert but you'd probably need the baby first…" His eyes trailed downward to her hands and back up to meet her gaze. "Oh," he whispered in realisation.

"I'm pregnant," she confirmed softly, saying the words aloud for the first time.

Fear gripped her heart and then he blurted out, "Marry me?"

She was so stunned that she couldn't say anything for a moment.

"Fuck—no," he groaned before he caught himself, stumbling over his words. "I mean, _yes_ , it's just that I had a _plan_ and a _ring_ made for you and I've been organising everything for months but now that we're here, none of it seems to matter anymore."

He placed his hand over hers, the two overlapping on her stomach. "I don't know what I did in this world to deserve a witch like you but there isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel like the luckiest man alive to have you. You've shown me a love that I never knew was possible, and this baby"—his voice caught with emotion on the word—" _our_ baby is so loved. Nothing would make me happier than to have more of you in this world. Every morning when I wake up next to you all I want to do is ask you this question; Hermione, my Starling, my little witch, will you marry me?"

"Yes," she breathed, looking up at him with wide eyes. Her heart drummed against her ribs.

"Yes?" he echoed faintly in disbelief.

"Yes!"

He picked her up effortlessly, kissing her like it was the last chance he'd ever have.

Her toes pressed into the grass as he gently lowered her and murmured, "Prongs and Moony are going to murder me after all the time they put into helping with my proposal only for me to ruin it with two days to spare."

She swatted gently at his chest and tutted. "You didn't ruin anything. I love that you proposed here in front of our future home. I can't believe that you're going to be my husband."

His smile grew wider, as if he couldn't contain it. "And you're going to be my _wife_. I'd marry you today if you'd have me but I have a feeling that you'd be cross with me for missing out on the free cake samples from wedding planning."

"You know me so well." She sighed into the words. "So, two days?"

"I had everything planned down to the last detail," he lamented with a slight pout. "I just couldn't wait one more second to ask you."

Crinkling her nose, she smiled up at him. "I only found out maybe an hour ago and it felt like I might burst if I didn't tell you soon. I can't be more than a month along."

"We're going to have a baby," he said in awe, wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. "We're going to be a family."

As she listened to the birds sing and the rustle of the leaves in the trees, she looked out at the open field, dreaming of all that was to come.

* * *

"Uncle Sirius, can we stop at Fortescue's next?" Teddy asked before hopping over a large crack in the cobblestone pathway.

"I see that you asked me and not your Aunt Hermione because you knew I'd be more likely to agree. I admire your strategy and would like to reward it." Sirius grinned, sneaking a glance at Hermione. "Maybe we can purchase some ice cream while she picks up her order at Flourish and Blotts?"

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione tilted her head at Sirius and her lips curved upwards. "Just pick me up a double scoop of chocolate, please."

Teddy let out a victory cheer and looked up at his uncle. "Then afterwards we can go to the Buster?"

A laugh bubbled up in her chest. "Oh my god, Sirius, look what you've done! You've corrupted the youth."

"My legacy," he teased, wiping away an imaginary tear of pride. "Teddy, don't tell the others, but you've always been my favourite."

Teddy's hair transitioned to jet black and curly, mimicking Sirius. "I already knew that," he announced with a skip in his step.

A few minutes later, Hermione stepped over the threshold of Flourish and Blotts, immediately bumping headfirst into a man who had been lingering by the entryway display case.

"Oh!" She caught herself just before she toppled over onto the stranger. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

"Don't you worry, I'm quite alright." He turned to face her and offered a sheepish smile before his eyes lit up in recognition. "Hermione! It's been ages."

It took several long seconds before Hermione could place him and her jaw went slack. "Cormac?"

Cormac's hair, which used to be styled straight and off to the side, was back to his natural short waves, and his eyes seemed light and kind. He was wearing a pair of denims and a plain white shirt, in stark contrast to his old suits.

"I hardly recognised you. What have you been up to?"

"I've been thinking of you, actually," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace. "I'd thought about writing so many times to apologise for how I treated you when we were together. I was a complete arse and it was inexcusable the way I talked to you."

Her eyes opened wider in shock. "It's okay—I mean, it's all in the past. I do appreciate that you at least have remorse for your actions."

"I do. I'm a better man now. I changed my life around the last time I saw you. I quit my job at the firm and opened a charity where we work with underprivileged youth and provide them with resources and mentors for a more stable home life. It brings me so much joy and satisfaction to improve the lives of those children."

In that moment, it felt like a breeze could've knocked her off her feet. "Wow, that is— _wow_ , Cormac. That's amazing! I'm so happy for you."

"It feels like I finally found my true calling," he said with a shrug.

"What inspired you to do all of that?"

His flinch was so subtle that she almost didn't catch it. "No reason in particular. I had just wanted a change, that's all. I have to get back to work but it was nice to see you."

"Yeah… nice you see you too," she murmured, giving a small wave as he slipped out of the shop.

After picking up her books, she made her way towards the ice cream shop and found Sirius and Teddy waiting for her. Sirius was balancing an ice cream cone in each hand and presented the chocolate ice cream to her as she approached.

"What did you do to Cormac?"

Teddy licked happily at his ice cream and skipped several steps ahead of them.

"You're going to have to be more specific," he replied nonchalantly, wiggling her cone in front of her.

She accepted the ice cream and glared at him from over the top scoop. "He owns a _charity_. _What did you do?"_

"It sounds to me like he had a life changing experience for the better, is all."

"Sirius."

He raised his brows and continued, "Perhaps his personal Seer came into a bit of money from a certain donor and warned Fuckface that unless he made some serious changes that he would end up cursed, bald, poor, and never loved by a woman again."

Nearly stumbling over her feet, she didn't know whether to praise or scold him. "You what?"

"I feel like I paid extra to have her say that his cock would fall off, but it's been a while and the details are a bit fuzzy."

"I can't believe you."

His brows pulled together and he tilted his head. "Then he may have had a few ominous visits from the Grim, but that's probably it."

"That's it? Just harassing him and threatening his future?" she choked out a laugh.

"I even found a new spell for fog. It really added to the ambiance."

Stopping abruptly, Hermione turned to him and gaped. "Sirius!"

He looped his free arm around her waist and prompted her to keep walking as they followed Teddy. "I don't see how this is at all surprising to you. That wanker called you a bitch. If you've ever read into my family history then you should be grateful that that's all that I did to him. You do _not_ want to know what my great-grandmother did to her gossiping gardener."

Despite herself, she shifted closer into his touch and sighed. "You're incorrigible."

"What?" He couldn't have sounded less contrite. "All I'm saying is that if you didn't want me to terrorise cuntwaffles while you were at work, then you shouldn't have left me by myself all day. This was completely foreseeable. You know who I am."

* * *

After finishing their ice cream—and a quick trip to pick out a film for Teddy—the trio returned to Potter cottage.

"There you are! We were starting to worry," James teased, ruffling Teddy's hair. "How was your day?"

Hermione recalled her morning, starting with the positive pregnancy charm, then the flight to their new home, and finally Sirius' proposal.

James' gaze flicked from her face to Sirius' and his mouth dropped open. "Oh my god, you already did it, didn't you?"

"Did what?" Sirius asked, feigning confusion.

She glanced over at Remus who was sharing a look with James. "He definitely did it already."

"You bastard!" James shook his head in disappointment. "You couldn't have waited two more days?"

"It's not my fault!" Sirius exclaimed, gesturing to Hermione as if that provided an answer. "Have you _seen_ my fiancée?"

"Does this mean I have to return the Hippogriff to Hagrid?" Remus mused.

James wagged his finger at Sirius. "You already cashed in on the Bloody Baron ghost wedgie favour for my part in the proposal and you can't take it back just because you had a case of premature engagement."

"I knew he wouldn't be able to resist asking sooner," Remus added smugly. "I'm surprised he was able to hold back this long, honestly."

Grumbling under his breath, James retrieved his wallet and began to count out fifty pound notes.

"That's offensive," Sirius grumbled, looking rather put out.

"That's _predictable_ ," Remus corrected, accepting the wad of cash from James. "Everyone knows that Hermione's your weakness."

Sirius smiled a bit at that. "She always has been."

"Well, congratulations, you two. I promise that we couldn't be happier for you," James pulled Sirius in for a hug at the same time that Remus embraced Hermione. "Let's go find the rest of the family and I'll grab a bottle of champagne to celebrate!"

"I think Harry and Ginny are in the living room with Tonks and Lily. I'll go get them," Remus declared, following James and Teddy out of the room.

"I'm still going to make them help me with the proposal," Sirius insisted. "You'll get two because you deserve nothing less."

Hermione lifted up onto her tip-toes, placing a kiss on his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he murmured. His silver eyes glazed over, lost in thought.

"What are you thinking about?"

He let out a heavy exhale. "I was just thinking that I wish I could send a letter back in time to my childhood self."

"And what would you tell yourself if you could?"

Sirius brushed back a curl from in front of her eyes and his lips tugged upward at the corners. "I'd tell him not to worry. I'd tell him that one day he'll have the family that he's always dreamed of and that even when everything feels lost, sometimes life finds a way to give us second chances."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we are finally at the end of Windswept! I am so grateful for everyone who has been here for this journey. 
> 
> First, thank you to all of my amazing readers. I can't put into words how wonderful it has been to interact with you all each week and your love for this story means the world to me! Thank you for every kudo/comment/silent reader who has taken the time to read my story. 
> 
> To my alpha/beta team, you know that I love you and that I'm garbage with sappy messages so apologies in advance for who I am as a person. 
> 
> To Lauraarmada, you've been working on this with me all the way from the beginning when I messaged you last summer asking "what if I tried a Sirimione next?" and I’m so thankful that you encouraged me and helped me talk through the original premise of Windswept! I am so thankful to have you as a friend and your support and encouragement mean everything to me. You've helped me shape this story from when it was a baby idea and it wouldn't be what it is today without you! You put up with my neediness and gifs and I am so grateful you aren't sick of me yet. 
> 
> To Lumoslyra, I still vividly recall sending you the first chapter of Windswept and you gave me the feedback to remember the characters had limbs and should probably use them occasionally lol! It's honestly been wonderful advice. I've learned so much from you on how to write better and I appreciate all of the time and effort that you put into Windswept (along with picking the name out of "windswept hair and leather jackets" when I was going insane with my list of options!). Thank you for being a fantastic friend and for all of your help with this story.
> 
> To Breathofthephoenix, thank you for always answering my frantic calls and messages when I'd feel overwhelmed about plot choices and you always knew what to say! You helped teach me how to angst and not resolve it in 3 paragraphs and I'm so grateful that you have helped with the story. I cannot thank you enough for all of your support and your patience listening to me ramble plot ideas in discord chats. I’m so happy to call you my friend!
> 
> To Potionchemist, as always thank you for adopting me! I'm beyond grateful for your never-ending patience and support. I'm not exaggerating when I say I wouldn't have been able to write this story without you. I can’t explain how much I appreciate all of your time and help making windswept coherent and especially for all of our last-minute edits on Saturday night calls! Thank you for helping teach me how to be a better writer and for putting up with me being me (and encouraging me to eat more vegetables).

**Author's Note:**

> All the love to my fantastic Alphabet, PotionChemist, BreathofThePhoenix, LumosLyra, and LauraArmada for all of your help and encouragement! I'd be lost without you ❤️
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at CurlyKay


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